#have it come crawling back in until it's half your size and something you must fight

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Villain’s Protector (Part 2) - Highway Tune

Summary: The reader and Soldier Boy are on the road attempting to figure out their next move when they run into a group of people covered in red streaks. As the reluctant pair comes to terms with what's happening in the world, they'll have to learn to work together if they want to try and survive...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 3,800ish

Warnings: language, violence, life-threatening situations, death (minor characters), mentions of past torture

A/N: Who wants to go on a fun road trip with Solider Boy? Any takers?....

________

You drove for over an hour, winding up on the outskirts of Albany before Soldier Boy was finally stirring awake again. He jerked up suddenly, looking all around before inhaling deeply.

“Where are we?” he grumbled, releasing your hand with a pout. He glanced out the dark window, little light to be seen. “Must be the fucking boonies.”

“We just cut around Albany. We’ll stop in Saratoga and grab gas, figure out our next move,” you said, Ben narrowing his eyes. “What?”

“What’s with the accidents?” He turned in his seat, glancing at the cars gathered in a ditch on the side of the road. You checked your mirror as you drove around yet another pile up, a small group of people suddenly appearing before you. You hit the breaks, Soldier Boy grunting when he slammed against his seatbelt. “Fucking drive much? What…”

He trailed off as he got a good look at what you’d seen a few times already on your drive. People with red streaks scattered across their skin, their faces angry, eyes vacant. 

“How far are we from the city?” he asked, clenching his fists. 

“Two and a half hours give or take,” you said. The group took slow steps forward, sizing you up and down. “They could be hurt.”

“Who cares? That is not blood and you know it,” he said, grabbing your wrist. Hard. You glared at him, Ben giving it back. “You are not helping them and you aren’t going anywhere without me.”

“Then let go of me so I can drive-” Glass shattered in the backseat, a hand grabbing your throat from behind. It squeezed hard, cutting off your air. A swarm of people, close to a hundred, were gathering around the car. A loud snap rattled through the dark night stillness, the people around you recoiling. You coughed violently as the hand around your neck ripped away, Ben screaming at you.

Your vision was swimming as he reached one long leg over the console and slammed his foot down on the gas. The car lurched forward, people in the road scattering. It jerked to the left when Ben grabbed the wheel, turning you sharply to avoid them.

“I got it,” you croaked out, pushing him away. One hand gripped the worn leather, the other held your neck. Ben pulled his leg away, tugging your shirt collar down.

“You’ll live,” he said, your eye catching something red on his palm. He gasped, the red streaks crawling up to his face. Instinctually you grasped his wrist, the red streaks traveling back down his arm and up yours. It burned, painfully, stopping your breath and making you cry out.

It hurt but you held on until there was no trace on his hand. Shakily you released him, violent shivers, echos of pain staying with you.

“Stop the car.” You hit the brakes now that the coast was clear, at least for a good thousand feet. He threw it in park and ran around the car, dragging your shaking form out of the drivers seat and lifting you unceremoniously into the passenger one. Three seconds later you were speeding along again, Ben shaking his head. “Where’s the fucking speedometer?”

“It’s the giant number in the middle of the screen. Newer cars don’t always have the old kind anymore,” you grit out, curling into a ball, eyes pressed tight together. He was silent, your pained breaths the only noise as he drove quickly past the Saratoga exit. “Where are you going? You need to go-”

“We’re going to Lake Placid.” It wasn’t a discussion and you were in too much agony to argue. Your finger jabbed at the window button, the cool night air hitting your face helping distract from the sharp twinges of shock jolting through your veins.

“What’s in Lake Placid?” you croaked out, rubbing your neck. He shifted in his seat when you peeled open an eye. 

“A place to lay low. It’s probably not a good idea to be around people right now.” He reached his hand over, brushing yours away front he bruised column of your throat. “You’re fine.”

You rolled your eyes, the aches slowly dulling, your chest starting to loosen up. He tapped the wheel, clenching his jaw. Why was he so annoyed with you? It wasn’t as if you’d already saved his life three times tonight or anything.

“We need to get off the highway,” he said. Before you could say a word, he was driving over the rumble strip on the shoulder and onto the grass. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you grit out, Ben driving right through some corn field and across a yard, hitting a quiet street. He checked the rearview mirror, your own gaze going to the side one. He turned off the lights just as in the far, far distance, three vehicles drove down the highway, well over a hundred miles an hour. “What the fuck is that?”

“Those fuckers from before. Must not be happy we didn’t turn into whatever the hell they are.” You swallowed thickly, holding up your hands, the last streaks of red finally disappearing along with the pain in your guts. 

“We should try and head west-”

“We’re not getting on the fucking thruway. If it’s not swarmed with pileups then it’s chock full of those…things. Last time I touched one, I nearly died and you didn’t do much better so no fucking way.” He drove again, only the dim daytime driving lights guiding your path. You sat upright, closing your window before fiddling with the radio. 

No music played, only a long loud beep you recognized from the emergency broadcast testing the government would do. Ben shared a look with you, his fists squeezing the wheel when the beeping ended.

This is an emergency broadcast for the eastern seaboard. Remain indoors. Do not attempt to travel at this time. Do not interact with any persons with red streaks on their skin. Seek shelter immediately and barricade yourself indoors. Loss of life is imminent if you go outside.

The long beep returned, the message playing over again before you changed the station, getting more of the same. Ben stabbed the power button, his broad chest rising and falling quickly.

“We have bigger problems then your vendetta against Reaper.” He was right. Reaper needed to wait, possibly forever. If the whole eastern part of country had been hit with this…

“How long will it take to get there?” you whispered. He frowned. “Can we make it by dawn?”

“Should be able to. I’m more concerned about running out of gas,” he said.

“I have an idea.” 

“This is so fucking dumb,” growled Ben twenty minutes later, jogging right along your side as you snuck up behind a Stewart’s Shop. You’d parked the car on the opposite side of the treeline and made your way through the small batch of pines before settling up against the exposed cinderblock. 

“Be grateful this happened in the middle of the night and no one was at fucking Home Depot,” you whispered, holding up your two empty gas cans. Ben sighed, four more clutched in his hands. 

“Okay but why do we have to do this now?” You poked around the back corner, only a single car in the parking lot you assumed belong to the person working inside.

“Because I don’t want to have fucking stop again,” you said, urging him to follow. He stuck to your back like glue, kneeling down behind a garbage can at a pump while you stuck your card in the machine.

“Are you fucking paying for this shit?” he snapped.

“How the fuck else are we supposed to get it out? You want to go talk to the cashier be my guest,” you shot back, grabbing the nozzle and shoving it in one of the canisters. “Just top them all off.”

You went to take another canister to the next pump but Ben grabbed your arm, yanking you down to the ground. A subtle threat passed between you, his hand slowly releasing you.

“You don’t leave me my motherfucking side. Ever.” You narrowed your eyes, grabbing his crotch and squeezing the ever loving shit out of his package. His eye twitched, watching you lean in close.

“Grab me like that again and I’ll leave your ass for dead. A supe that doesn’t know how this world works? Those things will kill you in less than a day.” You slowly release him, raising your chin. “You need to start trusting me.”

“Why the fuck should I?” You rested your hand over his, a quiet breath slipping between your lips.

“You’re a misogynistic asshole that doesn’t give two shits about other people.” Ben glared, his face twisting in anger. “Soldier Boy, yeah he’s a sack of shit. But Ben? I haven’t written him off yet and you shouldn’t either.”

“Whatever.” He let you go, grumbling to himself. “Fucking hurry.”

Less than ten minutes later you had topped off the car and had the gas stored away in the back when a door slammed nearby. Soldier Boy’s ear perked up, his head whipping around to face a man with red streaks come out of a nearby house.

“How the hell did he turn if he was inside,” mumbled Ben as the man pointed a shotgun at the two of you.

“Obviously that blast was more powerful than we realized,” you whispered, the man coming a stop when Ben stepped in front of you.

“Walk away unless you want to wind up dead,” said Ben. You poked your head around him, the man smiling darkly, the red streaks pulsing under his skin. You jumped when he shot straight at Ben’s head. It didn’t seem to do any damage but Ben’s hands shot up instinctively to wipe the soot away from his eyes. 

“No!” You rushed in front of him, the stranger’s hands touching your face instead of Ben’s. Your heart raced, faster than it had any right to go, every inch of skin burning like coals were dousing your body. 

“Join us,” the stranger whispered, sliding his hand down to your throat. Suddenly, he was flying backwards, Ben kicking him all the way against the side of a tree. The stranger seemed unnerved as you fell but Ben was on top of him, using the fallen shotgun like a baseball bat.

“She don’t like to be touched, pal.” Ben brought the shotgun down hard on his skull, cracking it open. You would have been disturbed if you weren’t in the fetal position struggling to get air into your lungs. 

Ben wore a smirk when he looked over his shoulder, face falling when he saw you shaking on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” He lifted you, setting you down in the backseat, the whites of eyes showing in the darkness. “Streaks. You’re-”

“Knock me out. Please,” you breathed, staring up at him. “Please.”

A large arm wrapped around your neck, pulling you back against a solid chest, your head thumping at the lack of oxygen. You barely heard him as you clung to the last few seconds of consciousness. 

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me yet.”

The air was cold when you stirred awake. You were being cradled, eyes fluttering open, met with thousands of tiny green stars etched into the fabric of Soldier Boy’s suit. With some effort, your eyes moved upwards, Ben carrying you bridal style. Leaves crunched under his boots, his chest warm against your cool skin.

“Why aren’t we in the car?” you mumbled. He was quiet a beat, footsteps hitting wood as you rose upwards. The sound of water lapping made your head turn, trying to find the source but it was too dark and his arms were too comfortable to move much.

“You want to stay in the car go for it but I’m crashing in my bed.” A door opened and you winced as a room flooded with light. It brought some life back to you though, eyes rapidly blinking and taking in the camping lodge you stood in. It was strangely clean smelling and while the furniture was out of date, it was spacious. 

“This is your house.” He dropped your backpack on the ground, walking you past an open expanse of windows down a hallway. With a thud, you were dropped on a mattress, Soldier Boy’s face unreadable. When you attempted to sit up, he put a hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to lay.

“Sleep.” You frowned as he left, his large frame pausing in the open doorway. “I said sleep, Y/N.”

He yanked the door closed after himself, his loud boots quieting, the light under the door going out after a moment. 

You tore off your boots with a sigh, attempting to get some rest but your body had decided it’d had enough downtime while you were out cold. After a solid hour of tossing and turning, you got out of bed and left the room. There was wood accents all throughout the hallway and high exposed beams running overhead. The light oak floors were warm under foot and you realized he’d turned on some sort of heating system somewhere in the home. Apart from the small hallway where you assumed the bed and bathrooms were, it was one large room. A kitchen, dining table and nice sitting area with a river rock fireplace that went to the ceiling. 

“Wow,” you whispered to yourself. You slipped out the back door and onto a deck overlooking Lake Placid, the sun rising over the mountainous hills in the distance and scattering pink and orange swirls in the sky.

“I thought I told you to sleep,” grumbled Ben. You jumped, his arms catching you. He sighed as you noticed he was out of his uniform. Instead, he wore a white tee and dark green flannel with levi’s and no belt low on his hips.

“I couldn’t. Why aren’t you-”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” he snapped. His harshness shouldn’t have surprised you. You knew who he was. But he’d seemed…gentle almost when he’d brought you here. It was all part of his charm, though. A man like him would never change. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

Back inside, you went into the kitchen, finding a pair of mugs, both Solider Boy themed, setting them on the counter. The sliding door shut with a thump, Ben bumping past you, practically shoving you out of the way.

“I was-” He grabbed your biceps, lifting you onto your tip toes. Dark green eyes bore through you, his body trembling with holding back his true strength. His head leaned in close, hot breath fanning over your chilly cheeks.

“Why won’t you fucking rest?” Ben growled. He shook you once, tears welling in your eyes. “You’re right. I don’t give a fuck about you. But if you’re dead, so am I. So fucking rest because god knows when we’ll have to move again. Understand?”

Your throat tightened, pressure from your injury and the sharp pang in your chest forcing out a shaky breath. Ben narrowed his eyes, shaking you again. “Bitch, I said do you understand?”

Your heart was racing, skin prickling like it had when you’d touched those red streaks before. But no, this was different. A familiar different. You needed to leave, you needed to get away. 

Soldier’s face softened only slightly, his gaze drifting to your chest. “What the…” 

He dropped you, giving you a chance to run outside. Barefoot and with your breaths getting fewer and farther between, you barely made it to a birch tree on the edge of the yard before collapsing against it.

Breathe in for four, breathe in for four. You shakily forced yourself to hold the cool morning air in your lungs before letting it out slowly. Fingertips dug into your own arms, head between your knees as you breathed over and over, the tension finally releasing.

“What are you doing?” You jumped back against the tree, squeezing your eyes shut when Soldier Boy stood in front of you. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered. This had been a mistake. Breaking him out had been a monumental one. He was just like Reaper. As soon as you had the chance, you needed to take the car and run.

“I’m afraid of you, you know.” You shot your eyes open, fears falling away for the briefest of moments. Ben took a seat on the grass nearby, looking out at the foggy lake. “Everyone else in my life I can fuck things up with but you? I’m screwed without you. So I can’t fuck it up and that seems to be all I’m capable of doing.”

“You can’t grab me like that or tell me what to do,” you whispered. He didn’t turn back to acknowledge you. “It’s wrong.”

“I used to come here when I was a boy.” He tore up a fat blade of dewy grass, ripping it apart into tiny pieces with his hands. “I learned to swim in that lake. I used to love it here.”

Using your jacket sleeve, you wiped off your face, watching his shoulders slump. 

“Ever wish you could be a kid again, when the world was simple?” You rested your chin on your knees, wrapping your arms around them. He glanced back at you, watching you shake your head. “Someone like you doesn’t need me to kill Reaper. It’d be easier for sure but you seem like a smart woman. So why the fuck would you break me out?”

He stood, approaching you cautiously, coming into a squat nearby. He looked…normal, in those clothes, like a guy on a weekend camping trip. The lake caught your attention, his face turning to a frown the longer you sat in silence.

“You have powers that can knock a supes out, or kill them.” You finally flickered your eyes to meet his, his lips parting in understanding. “I’m not a supe but I was hoping if we couldn’t find Reaper…but now you won’t because you need me to stay alive to keep you alive.”

Ben sat on his bottom, scooting backwards to sit by your side. You gnawed the inside of your cheek, his hand resting on top of your head.

“How about we kill Reaper’s ass instead?” You looked up at him, Ben raking a finger behind your ear. “Why on earth would I kill the woman that protects me? I’m a motherfucker, not an idiot.”

“But-” He pressed a finger to your lips. He shook his head, sliding his finger down, grasping your chin lightly.

“I don’t know what happened but I will not let him near you again. Understand?” You nodded, Ben cracking a smile. “Oh, so you do know how to answer that question.”

“You’re such a dick,” you whispered, Ben smirking as a small one crossed your face. “I meant it, Ben. You can’t grab me like that.”

“Even when you’re being stupid? Or annoying?” 

“Even then.” He rolled his eyes. “Why do you do that? Grab at me.”

He dropped his hands away, clenching his jaw. “Benjamin. I need to know it’ll never happen again.”

“It won’t.” Part of you wanted to argue but he was turning away from you, whatever momentary peace between you turning icy. 

“I’m sorry but that’s not good enough.” His hand rested on your thigh before you could even move. No pressure in it, nothing to keep you in place. But you stilled, his shoulders rising and falling, back to you.

“You might have been passed out on the way here but you wouldn’t stop screaming in your sleep. There’s not way you’re okay so you saying you are just…” He shook his head. “I don’t even know why I care.”

“Maybe because I cared about you first?” Carefully, you rested your hand on top of his. It was much warmer than anticipated, Ben glancing at it briefly. 

“You wanted to use me as a weapon or to take you out so Reaper can’t get his hands on you again. Don’t pretend to give a shit, Y/N.” He yanked his hand away, letting yours fall.

A bird cawed in the distance, a pair of them taking flight over the water. He rose, walking across the grass, arms crossed.

“I know what they did to you in Russia.” His whole body froze. Slowly, you got up, feeling the ache in your bones from the lingering effects of those…things. The muscles under his shirt bulged, his body surely tensing up. “Do I want you to kill Reaper for me? Of course I do. But that’s not why I broke you out.”

You started back for the cabin, pausing for a beat, a cool breeze tickling your face. You glanced over your shoulder, the rising sun casting over his body and creating a long shadow behind him.

“A lot of the world turned on you. They thought you were scum, a traitor.” You sighed, heading up the small hill. “Don’t lump me in with them.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” You could feel his gaze, his angry heat, just waiting to give himself a reason to hate you. Well, screw that. 

“Underneath all that rage and bravado, you’re just like me. A scared kid that’s tired of being alone, tired of being hurt and you have no idea what to do when someone tries to protect you because it’s never happened before. You’ve paid for your mistakes. You don’t deserve a never ending life of pain and torture. No one understands that like I do, Ben.” You glared back at him, his gaze softening. “Maybe I just wanted to help you because no one helped me. Is that so damn hard to believe?”

You stormed up the hill, slamming the back door shut behind you. You’d barely made it to the hallway when you heard it open again. 

“Ben, I’m not in the-” Your heart jumped into your throat when two men with red glowing streaks were standing in the kitchen, sharing a look that made your skin crawl. “H-Hi.”

“You seem worried,” said one, lifting his chin, both of them stepping forward. “Why don’t you come over here and you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

A floorboard creaked behind you, a woman with red streaks at the end of the hall and boxing you in. One of the men frowned, the other pulling a garden shears from his back pocket. 

“Hard way it is, sweetheart.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[dearabby1990]

Hello, I would like to make a request Daryl x reader After Rick left and Daryl felt guilty and went to live in the forest, the archer's relationship with the reader no longer worked out, so they didn't see each other again. Until all the problems with the whisperers arise, and they start working together again, anyway, I wanted to ask you to write that the reader gets a little grumpy because she's jealous of Connie and she can't say anything because she and Daryl are no longer boyfriends. and in the end they resolve themselves and come back

WE’ll DO THIS IN A 2 PARTER LOVE THE IDEA

Three months it’s been since he packed his things and told you not to bother following him. Three months since your world fell to pieces even more then it has outside these walls. The worst part was when you tracked him down to tell him you were pregnant you found him playing in a stream with a beautiful woman and a dog. You couldn’t bare the sight another second quietly making your way back home. When Carol had come into your room to see how things went she was not only met with the sight of you uncontrollably sobbing but the giant sized puddle of blood between your legs. Not only has your heart been broken but the stress of it all caused an early term miscarriage. Thank goodness for your girls they kept checking in on you and letting you know they’ll always be there especially Carol, Maggie and Rosita.

Slowly you notice Daryl around more especially around Connie watching him half ass sign to her as he smiles. Wonder how many other women he flirts with not that it’s your business anymore. He catches your eye but before anyone can get any ideas you’re off helping Maggie and Paul load up the horses as Aaron says goodbye to Gracie. Little did you know Daryl was coming too this left you frustrated so you kept your distance feeling his fierce blue eyes piercing the back of your head. Deciding it be best to stick by Rosita and Eugene as you know when you get to the checkpoint you’ll be splitting ways. As soon as the horses pull up to the tower Daryl and the rest of his group went one way while you Eugene and Rosita did your part everything seemed to go off without a hitch. That was until you spotted a hoard approach from the top of the tower as Eugene is slowly climbing underneath you. “Uh Eugene do you see what I see?!” He turned his head brows full of sweat “son of a biscuit we gotta get the hell outta here stat!” He starts clambering down then your bag falls just missing his head as it hits the ground scaring you both as you tumble down hitting the ground with a hard thud. Eugene’s bone sticking from his leg and your ankle is at the very least badly sprained. You see a nearby barn Rosita quickly getting you both inside finding a hiding spot at the top in a hidden compartment in the flooring telling you to stay put until she can get more backup. The both of you huddled together hearing something off into the distance you crawl from the small space much to Eugene’s protests “please be careful y/n” you army crawl to the front opening seeing the hoard circling like buzzards hunting for prey & that's when you hear it “they can’t be far…. Don’t let them get away…” you hear whispers your eyes bulging from your head maybe you have a concussion and you’re hearing things you shuffle back pulling Eugene forward “what the hell are ya doing y/n?” “Eugene shut the fuck up for a moment and listen” you help crawl forward with him listening intensely “they have to be around here somewhere…. We’ll circle around again… we must not let them escape” he looks at you as if he’s seen a ghost “did they just… did they just talk?!” You cover his mouth trying to keep him quiet as not to be found he starts to panic “they’re evolving… the dead are evolving” you both crawl back into the crawl space waiting for help to come minutes turn to hours and the sun begins to set as you both grow extremely tired. The silence enveloping you but then you hear the sound of multiple footsteps it throws you both into a panic trying your best to both stay quiet until you hear the sounds of your brother and Aaron “y/n Eugene you here?..” “hello guys?..” after a moment they hear it “affirmative we’re under here”. Paul slides over to said area swiping away the hay that lay atop the latch door opening it revealing you both Paul pulls you up first then Eugene assessing your injuries & that’s when you see Daryl off in the background ignoring him completely you and Eugene start explaining what it was you saw and heard everyone being convinced you were both delirious you snap “NO! You’re not fuckin listening dipshits these bastards are talking we heard them not to mention they been circling the area since Rosita left!” “That’s impossible” mumbles Daryl “don’t remember anyone askin you asshole so just stay quiet” you spit venom his way throwing him off “besides don’t you have better shit to do better yet better people to do” you limp right by him throwing your shoulder into his as Rosita and Paul help get you out of there seeing the hoard approach “wow look at them this is different they should be miles away by now” said Aaron so Rosita throws a road flare to distract them it working for the first two minutes before they notice the redirection of the hoard “what the fuck? We gotta get the hell out of here now!” You all band together getting outside making your way through brush and trees coming upon a cemetery. You see something moving through the thick fog.

You and Paul both squint to see you look at him and Aaron and break into action taking out walker after Walker. Next thing you know Michonne is at the front gate trying to pry it open to get Eugene out. You three taking out Walker after Walker you goto high five your brother and just as you start to celebrate you hear a voice say something “this is just the beginning” as a sword plunged its way through your brother and you blood curdling scream causing everyone to whip their heads Daryl running over taking out what of these things as left as the rest retreat. Your on your knees with Paul’s head in your lap sobbing “I’m sorry I’m sorry” you bury your face into his chest “it’s okay y/n just remember everything I taught you and all the beautiful moments we’ve had together” then he looks up at Daryl with all he can muster “you make it up to her you make it up to her and my niece or nephew that could’ve been stop running and face your fears” Daryl confused by this just stands there watching you crumble to pieces “no!! Paul no please don’t leave please!” Before you know it you’re being lifted up and thrown over someone’s shoulder as you protest the whole way out of there. Rosita has you go with Daryl and dog to take you back to the house in one piece halfway there you hear moaning and murmuring again Daryl lifts you onto a roof and climbs up himself resting his arm protectively over your back calling dog to get him to redirect the heard as he lights a string of fireworks tossing it to add to the theatrics. The hoard begins following the noise after the fireworks fizz out is when Daryl finally hears it for himself “they can’t be too far keep searching… we don’t stop until they’re all dead…” his eyes snap wide as he stares at you. “What now all of a sudden I’m not so crazy? Do me a favor take me home so you can go back to whatever it is that you do” he takes a deep breath rolling on his back on the roof “what did Paul mean when he was talking about his nephew or niece?” You scoffed “not you’re business not your problem anymore don’t worry about it kay?” You turn away from him “hey! Answer the damn question he had to have said it for a damn reason!” You snap your head at him “oh yeah captain dipshit?! Wanna know what he fuckin meant? He meant me being excited we were gonna be a family just to find you playing house in a stream with some fuckin gorgeous woman and dog so I fuckin left you there you obviously didn’t need me so I went home so God decided to punish me even more by taking the baby from me too you didn’t need us so you got what you wanted! Then you start coming around again and become Connie’s fuckin personal fuckin apocalypse tour guide just to rub it in so you know what I gotta say to that?! Fuck you fuck the bullshit you’ve ever said to me all those nights of confessions didn’t mean shit to you I wasn’t a damn thing to you except something to pass the fuckin time. I lost Carl my little fuckin brother and I lose you I lose my baby and now my brother I think if anybody is entitled to take the fuck off it’s me! Kiss my Irish ass Dixon!” Hours Later

You gobble away from him as fast as you could weaving between trees not giving a shit if you ran into something or someone at this point anyone stupid enough to fuck with you was asking for a death wish. The gates open solemnly everyone stares one thing you can’t stand is pitiful looks and that’s when you see it. As if Paul left it there just for you his motorbike sitting next to his trailer keys dangling from the ignition so without second thought you hop on the seat. As you get comfortable you notice Daryl step through the gates of the community hurrying you run into Paul’s trailer grabbing what gear you could stuff in your bag running back outside hopping back onto the seat seeing Daryl starting to sprint towards you as you start up the bike him waiving his arms like a madman but this didn’t stop you from speeding through the community kicking up rocks as you sped back out of the gates not wanting to look back.

[plasticageau-psychonauts]

"WELCOME TO THE AGE OF PLASTIC. YOU MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY YOUR STAY, BECAUSE IT WILL LAST UNTIL THE DAY YOU DIE."

"So you'd better get ready.... ready to go. You can come as you are... but pay as you go. Pay as you go!"

-- O Superman, Laurie Anderson

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C:/> WELCOME.

C:/> THE WORLD BEFORE YOU IS A <<100% authentically real>> EXPERIENCE OF THE LIKES THAT HAS NEVER BEEN WITNESSED BY <<the psionic kind?>>.

C:/> IT MAY BE HUMANKIND, OR IT MAY NOT BE. BUT ALL THAT MATTERS IS THAT THIS WORLD HAS OPENED A DOOR OF NEW POSSIBILITIES FOR THE <<free thinking psychic>>.

C:/> YOU MAY BE CONFUSED OR PERHAPS EVEN... SUSPICIOUS, <<you beautiful soul.>>

C:/> BUT YOU MUST <<trust>> ME, FOR THIS IS AN OPPORTUNITY YOU DO NOT WANT TO MISS.

C:/> <<you will regret it.>>

C:/> DO NOT <<miss your chance.>>

What is the Plastic Age AU?

The Plastic Age AU is a new-wave-inspired Psychonauts AU created by @soulsoffairlight following the post-game adventure of Razputin Aquato.

On Raz's 11th birthday, at approximately 3:36 AM... his entire family got a little birthday suprise.

Their campground was raided by a group of sinister, shadowy figures. They squinted their eyes as hard as they could. They shone their lanterns at the intruders, trying to make out any of their features. But all efforts were fruitless.

The intruders were mere silhouettes who they could not identify.

And Augustus Aquato, Raz's father... who was still struggling through the grief of recent events...

was quietly kidnapped.

The family was quick to get to its feet. It was quick to find a way to eliminate the threat. The Aquatos could not afford to keep anything close to a threat around.

And they knew. They knew that the middle son, Razputin Aquato... only 11 for 3 hours and a half...

Had brought them to nothing but danger.

So, in the early hours of his 11th birthday... the family tentatively shooed the burden off to the Motherlobe.

They knew it had to do something with him.

They would refuse to speak to him until he untangled this bondage that he got them trapped in.

The miserable preteen knew that only he could get his dad out of this. And he knew that he had to do it FAST. His stomach churned and his skin crawled at the idea of where he may be. His heart ached and cramped with grief weighing him down harder than all the regrets he's seen combined.

One half of the Motherlobe was empathetic with him. They worried about him. Constantly. They tried to stop him from accidentally hurting himself.

But the other half... looked at him with scorn.

One half spoke volumes louder than the other to the grieving preteen.

And he knew... that this wouldn't be a straightforward rescue mission.

He knew that it was going to be a time of heavy change.

Perhaps even painful change.

As if the confusing changes his mind and body were going through weren't already making him question whether he's even human to begin with.

What extents will Razputin Aquato go to in order to survive what no preteen should have to go through? While he's so young and lacking identity?

Will he have to make changes in his mind? Perhaps.

But with a smiling face of his own creation, he holds his head up high with hope.

With his back to yet another mole in the Psychonauts.

One that sizes itself up to the boy like a python when he's not looking...

...waiting for its chance to strike.

"And their tears are filling up their glasses, going nowhere, going nowhere..."

-- Mad World, Tears For Fears

Divider source: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[mellowwhumps]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 12: Building collapse | Trapped under rubble | “I can’t move my legs.”

OCs: Haley, Halcyon, Ria

CW: nothing major, i think

@whumperless-whump-event

It was supposed to be a safe trip. He was supposed to leave her near a less-dilapidated building, then head to the more affected areas to assess the damage that needed to be fixed. She wasn’t meant to come. She wasn’t meant to warn him or happen upon a poorly-adjusted foundation. 

He took the brunt of the damage for her.

Haley groaned, every part of his body aching. He could not see the extent of her injuries without a source of brightness, but she could at least position herself to be more comfortable and talk normally. He, on the other hand, was quite trapped.

He took a deep breath, spending a moment to check over his ability to move. It wasn’t the worst injury he ever had. His legs weren’t even crushed, just lodged in a tight space. At a single glance, he could tell those rocks were the only thing supporting the rubble from crashing down on them.

“Ria. I am…unable to move my legs, so you need to escape and get help first.”

“How? How do I…you…” Ah. She’s breathing heavily. If it continued, they would easily run out of oxygen and perish. Not the best way to go, nor heroic either. Not fitting for her.

“Breathe. The building was small enough, and it was a single part of it that crumbled. There will be an exit.” A little lie wouldn’t hurt right now. He squinted, examining the wreckage. A crack of light shines, though miniscule, but it was more than enough for him. “Behind you. Dig there. Be careful not to get hurt.”

Her hands were trembling. Was it nervousness or his blood loss? Still, she finds the location and gently lifts each rock, placing it by the side and repeating the action. It’s a long process, one that was much too worrying. 

After what felt like forever, it was small enough to squeeze through. She crawled out, sprinted off, and was gone. 

She’s safe. Nothing mattered more than that.

Something heavy makes contact with his skull. He kept his eyes open for her until exhaustion overwhelmed his senses, dragging him back into darkness.

—————

Ria was a coward. Put on a brave face, but when it came to life or death, she’d run away any minute. She never even asked if he was unhurt, or tried to get him out. She had to get help. The rest of the building could have collapsed right down on him, right now, and once again she would be powerless to do anything herself. 

She needed to get help first. That’s what he instructed her to do. If none of the eyes around her even bothered to come out and help, then she would find someone who would.

She runs. But she isn’t running away.

She meets the stranger once more, clad in armor and with that horrible concerned expression on her face. The stranger told her she was crying. She hadn’t even noticed. A sign of weakness, now? No, she had to be stronger.

“…Where is your caretaker?” The knight asks. She helped her before, ever the kind person in a world of people who wouldn’t see what she saw. The only good adult she knew. Ria takes her hand, even if her palm was merely half that size, and leads her forward, striding the streets. 

The knight calls for more assistance not a second after turning the corner.

She never looked back just now, never checked just how much damage there was. The building in front of her was nothing but dust and rubble. He never told the truth to her, and sounded so confident in her as well. 

She was scrabbling at the rocks before anyone else even came close to stopping her, calling his name until her voice became hoarse. The hole she made had disappeared. No response. The woman squats beside her and starts lifting the heavier rocks, gesturing for others to help.

Ria sees the blood before the colour of his scarf, running in rivulets down his forehead. His arm twists unnaturally; the arm he must have used to try and shield her. There are so many things wrong with the situation she doesn’t even know which part to start panicking about.

Her gaze shifts to his chest, rising and falling unsteadily. He’s breathing, he’s going to be alright. The woman beside her mutters absently that it might as well be a miracle, even as her attempts to garner reaction from him don’t make him shift in the slightest. 

Miracle. She doesn’t even know what that word means. She would have pestered Haley to ask about it, the stupid, stupid man who was so smart and strong, who could fight easier than breathing, who knew how to get her out before she met the same fate as him; near-dead and gut-wrenchingly helpless to his own plight. 

If this was what ‘protecting’ was, she realises, then, that she’d have done the same in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t have wanted that, but even so, she always had that same kind of stubbornness in her.

[clevermird]

Title: Good Times and Good Drinks

Prompt: Confessions @shortfictionweeklychallenge

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessasi Silver (female Smuggler), Corso Riggs

Pairing(s): femSmuggler/Corso

Now that she has her ship back, Jessasi decides that she and Corso deserve a night on the town - but they both might have a bit more than they're admitting on their minds.

This is also my attempt to mess around with the start of the Corso romance plotline to make it less awkward and weird.

Text under cut

For the first time in weeks, Jessasi was sitting right where she belonged: in the cockpit of The Fool’s Wager, feet up on the dash, music blaring from the stereo. It’s good to be home. Skavik hadn’t even sold any of her stuff!

She checked her wrist chrono. Still eighteen hours until they were supposed to take off. Hmm. . .

“Corso!” she called, swinging her feet to the floor. “Get ready, we’re going to town!”

Twenty minutes later, she was ready to go and she didn’t look half-bad if she did say so herself: striped shorts, a grey top that clung to her curves, short vest to draw the eyes to her chest, and comfortable sandals. Checking the mirror one more time, she added a bit more eyeshadow and a touch of lipstick, slid on a few bracelets, and headed for the airlock.

Corso was waiting for her. “Aren’t we going to bring Risha?”

“Nah.” Running across the galaxy on her say-so was one thing. Going to the bar with her was another.

They took a taxi to the Old Galactic Market Sector and found the cantina easily. Darmas Pollaran had moved on, but the place was still crawling with all sorts relaxing after hard days. Down on their luck spacer types nursed drinks and scowled at everyone else, swankier customers played sabbacc, and a few guys were already drunk enough to be trying to dance along with the holodancers.

Jessasi rolled her eyes and headed for the bar.

The droid manning the drink orders whirred over as she slid onto a stool. “What will it be today, gentlebeings?” he said in a voice that sounded ridiculously snooty on any bartender outside the Senate Tower.

“Uh. . . just a Corellian ale?” Corso said, looking awkward.

“Come on, Corso, where’s your sense of adventure? This is Coruscant!”

“I already know I like it, why bother changing?”

Jessasi shrugged.

The droid turned in her direction. “And for you, m’am?”

“How about a Nexu Tail?” It wasn’t a drink she could find everywhere, but when they do, she always got them.

While they waited, she looked around to see if anything exciting was happening. Someone must have just won a pazzak match. The guy was dancing around like something good had happened, at any rate. A cute, yellow-skinned twi’lek guy smiled bashfully at her and she smiled back. He brightened.

“Uh. . . Captain?” said Corso with just a bit of an edge to his voice.

“What?” I’ll talk to anyone I like, thank you very much. The guy looked at Corso, then back at her. Shaking her head, Jessasi waved him over.

As he got up, someone shouted from across the room and he turned. A moment later, he was bro-hugging a burly Cathar and Jessasi was back to waiting for the drinks to show up.

Probably for the best anyway. Her mom had always said “flirt all you want, kiss all you like, but don’t give your heart – or your holes – to anyone unless you’re sure he’s the one.” And so far, she’d followed that rule with only two exceptions. And she’d really thought that Mal was the one, so actually it was only one exception.

Thinking about Mal was on its way to ruining her good mood, but fortunately, the droid returned with their drinks before she’d stewed about it too much. They certainly served generous portions in this place. Corso’s beer mug was half the size of her head.

“What is that?” he said, looking at her drink.

“It’s a Nexu tail.”

“Looks like a couple of Zeltrons exploded in your glass.”

Scowling at him, Jessasi took a sip of the brightly colored drink. “It tastes good.” And they put way more Corillian rum in it than most places did.

Corso took a swig of his beer. “Really?”

“Yeah, try it.”

He sipped it, frowned, took another sip, then two more. “Wow, you’re right. Is that mujafruit juice?”

“I honestly have no idea.” She grinned and ordered another drink. Maybe something akdov-based this time. . .

Several glasses in, she could feel the liquor starting to work. A warm feeling stretched down toward her toes and she felt really relaxed for the first time in a while. Coming here was a great idea.

“I guess you should get to try one of mine,” Corso said, breaking a silence of several rounds.

He slid the mug over and Jessasi picked it up with both hands. The drink had a rich, gold taste that made her feel even warmer.

“You’ve got foam on your nose.”

She wiped it off and returned to her own drink. “You know?” she said, giggling a little. “I really hope Risha’s telling the truth.”

“So do I, Captain.”

“I mean, it would really suck if she wasn’t. And you can call me Jess, you know. Everyone else does.”

The droid reappeared, dripping with some unsatisfied customer’s drink. “May I refill your glasses, gentlebeings?”

They looked at each other and their eyes met. Corso grinned. Jessasi grinned. “Sure. Why not.”

Corso’s eyes were brown, she noticed as the droid trotted away to mix her another drink. A really nice brown. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? She looked away awkwardly. Someone was singing some kind of drinking song on the sunk-in section of the floor.

Their refills came back really fast this time and she started drinking again.

Setting down his already half-drained mug, Corso said, far too loudly, “Why do we never do anything fun like this on the ship?”

“We just got the ship back! And I can be kind of fun!” She shouldn’t turn her head so fast. It made the room spin.

Corso grunted and kept drinking. Jessasi followed suit. She was almost at the bottom of the glass before Corso spoke again. “We could get our blasters out and see who can take out the bartender droid the fastest.”

For some reason, this seemed hilarious and Jessasi started giggling. “I don’t think the cops would like that very much,” she managed to get out when she could breathe again.

He laughed too and scooted his stool closer. He smelled good, like a haystack, even though it had been weeks since he could have been near one. “Back on Ord Mantell, we used to run the rontos around in circles and see if they could charge us without falling over. We should do that.”

That set her off again and she felt tears coming to her eyes. “Got any suggestions that don’t involve farm animals, farmboy?”

“I know a few, but I might not be able to show you all of them here. . . “ He leaned in closer and Jessasi felt his lips brush against hers, his breath hot on her face. She smiled.

Then he pulled away. “Sorry, Captain,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have done that. Propositioning you in a bar like a Hutt’s dancer. It’s not right.”

“’sokay,” Jessasi replied. Everything was starting to get fuzzy, but she felt sad nonetheless.

“Are you doing okay?”

She burped. “I thinks so.”

“We should get you back to the ship.” His words slurred together, but she wasn’t sure if that was him talking or her hearing. Maybe a little of both?

When she tried to walk, the floor kind of tilted like the Fool’s deck did when she pulled crazy stunts. Somehow, she ended up with her arm around Corso’s shoulder and they made it out to the curb. A taxi pulled up and the droid buzzed. “State your destination.”

Jessasi crawled into the seat and curled up on it. “Taris. That’s what Risha said, right? And we have to do what Risha says. She’s the only one who knows where it is.”

“Just take us back to the spaceport,” Corso said.

Oh. Right. The spaceport. The speeder started speeding along again – a speeder, speeding, how funny is that? – and Jessasi closed her eyes. It made her stomach hurt less. “I don’t feel very good.”

“Why don’t you go to sleep? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Okay. You know what? I like you.”

“I like you too, Captain.”

As the speeder hurried back to the spaceport and her ship, Jessasi fell asleep with her head on Corso’s shoulder.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Little thing, little thing, Weak and small, I must Admit your pluck impresses Me, but nothing more,

Big eyes, blue eyes, face Like a newborn fawn's, You have no idea what you're Coming up against, and it Shows,

A dance of blades, hardly so, It's like teaching a toddler to Waltz, but I deign myself Nevertheless, because when You rule a world of demons, You get little chance for such Menial prance,

But stay out of my way, you, Run along and play in the Flowers, as befits your kind, I am good, I am kind, but Only for so long, and behind My painted lips, dear, I bear Bloodied teeth,

You, however, are either Stupid, stubborn, or both, You have a word for that Irritant in particular, 'Brave,' I can't help laughing, at the Insistence on bestowing valourance To a trait like that,

But I'm a busy man, a busy, busy Man, and you'll solve yourself Soon enough, either by sense or By impaling yourself, on their Blades or your own, What a lovely thing it'd be, Your sweet ichor drenching so Sacred an edge, defiling both,

So I thought,

But, as destiny would have it, You prove yourself harder to Shake than that, Harder to Lose, like a parasite-- Though I suppose you're more free than That, eh? May-so a gadfly, rather, Yes, I like the sound of that, I must move along, Don't follow me, Not unless you want me to devour You, too, like I did all the other little Boys and girls who strayed too Close,

The weeks pass by with little Complaint, and I'm permitted to Search in peace, I am not, However, a fool, nor to be taken As such, and I know you haven't Stalled, not for a moment, I learned that, a little while ago Now, I think, that you will not Rest, not until you fulfill your Purpose, that purpose so bestowed Upon you, written into your heart Since before time began, That which you mistake for 'love,' My boy, It occurs to me here that we have This alike,

Ha, What idiocy, To compare a snake and a worm,

The insurgence at the bridge Comes like a trip into icy waters, I vow then to have your blood, To gorge myself on every scream, Every drop, until there's nothing Left of you, and my stomach strains, It's all my fault, really: show a man A little mercy and he inevitably thinks Himself your equal! You, I will swallow You, whole or in pieces, Whatever proves least resistent,

Damn it to shit! Pardon my language, But how, oh how, am I supposed to Find that spirit maiden now? Every ray of sunlight seems a flick of Her hair, every glint of dew a sparkle In her eye, the opalescent glimmer of A half-intact Goddess Plume yet Another mirage, yet another mockery Of her manifest glory-- Though perhaps Not so, they were hers once, after all, Either way, I get the feeling you live Like this, too, waiting for magic signs, To see her again, Dear me, it almost sounds like I'm in Love, doesn't it? I'd fall, dear, if just To set you fuming, if only to have you Watch on with horror and a jealousy Greener than your robes, They say Two's company and three's a crowd, And I love a good show, the only Question is, how long will you be Performing?

You dance better, faster, and it sends Me into a rage, You don't even have the goodness to Cast a meaningful glance when I show Myself to you, offer you a sight so lovely, A chance to behold that which is wrought By gods before you die, you spit in the Face of my master and his mother before Her when you harden your gaze as much As you do mine, Tell me hero, what would Din make of you, Turning your nose up at her handiwork? Wrath, indignation so righteous it makes One sick, a retribution so divine it sends Waves of nausea down your spine, Now raise that sword boy! Hit me like You mean it! Surely, boy, you wouldn't Make it so that your goddess chose a Whelp, would you?

Do her justice if not yourself, though I'd Say there's no difference between the Honor of the servant and that of his Master, Glory flows forth as disgrace reflects Back, and you paint a lackadaisical Image, O sacred youth,

You wouldn't need 'bravery', not if You knew your place, not if you Truly bore witness of your security As crusader, paladin, defender just And mighty, There would be no need for this 'Valiant' act, this psuedo-gallance,

I ought not to deign myself to such Lectures, really, I am not your Teacher, and you are not my student, Nor my brother, or my lover, my friend or My son, It's a flaw of mine, really, being so Overcome with setting things straight, It does neither of us good, and I Suppose it must make a pitiful image Of my master, but I cannot help it, Not anymore than your friend can Help speaking of numbers and Probabilities, of walking you through Procedures myriad done a dozen before, I think, sometimes, maybe, if I were of meagre flesh, demonic Or divine need not matter, I'd Be a teacher, You make me ache, a little, I wonder why,

I don't see you, after that, Not face to face, but whenever I can spare time, and you're Out there, clambering among The turf thick and dusty, fingers Knotted in the rope-like vines, I watch-- Distantly, I'd assure, But that would be a lie, and in Truth, there've been many a time Where I'd wait just behind your ear, Where when you fell asleep, Deeming, foolishly so, might I add, That this wretched land would be an Apt place to do so, I'd chase the Monsters from your bedside, Pluck the walltulas from above your Head, and when the weather turned, When a storm would come thundering Down your way, I'd take what I can, And wake you, with many tries, again, Might I add, I don't know how you live, I don't know Why I let you, all I know is that it's Getting late, and you ought to run along, Sky child, Hear your birds can't fly at night,

Time, time, time, even time can be bent, And as I do, you follow me through even Still, How romantic, I'm almost touched, if it Weren't for her and not I, because now Instead it's not only an irritant, but a Detriment, Why, silly boy, do you wish to throw away Your life?

My patience is running out, You're too quick, boy! Things like These take time, can't you see? Can't you understand what it takes To be me?

Up, up, up we go, walking in the air, Dancing in a flamelit sky, No better place for a final greeting, a Final meeting, a final waltz, the Last ballet to end it all, You're in your best clothes, worn And thin, and I my best skin, Bearing my finest diamonds, The clanging of pearly sword against a dermis Jet black and glimmering, We're going off like fireworks, We're brighter than all the stars in The night sky,

You've grown so much since then, Since you were that wide-eyed fawn, Scrambling for purchase in Skyview- Temple, you've actually grown out your Antlers, now, a young buck, pride of the Forest, now, Pride of mine, It makes me ache, And I realise, with horror, That I don't want to fight you,

You have made me soft, so soft,

And that is your greatest offense Of all.

—Waltz of the Gemset Deer

[blueicequeen19]

72 Hours

Summary: Your mom marries Rudy’s dad - making the actor your new step brother. You two don’t meet until the wedding and you immediately hate each other despite the obvious attraction. But when Rudy threatens to ruin everything, you have no choice but to step in.

Trigger Warning: cnc, dub-con, blackmail, Somno, forced creampie

I sneak into his bedroom and to my surprise, find him already naked and hard. He must be having a good dream. He’s laying on his back, the blanket tangled in his legs and one muscular arm thrown over his eyes. My throat is suddenly dry just by seeing him like this. I can’t deny the strong desire that I feel in his presence. Even if he is an unbearable kiss ass with his charm. But when it came down to it, he was a man and he wouldn’t be able to resist me. Being a woman was the only card I could play. I wouldn’t let us end up on the street again. It was time I put Rudy in his place.

I strip out of my sleep clothes and crawl up the bed, throwing my leg over his waist so I can straddle him. My heart was racing. My pussy was throbbing. I was excited. I spat in my palm and careful worked his member, getting him nice and wet for me. I couldn’t complain about his size. It was longer than I expected so I had no doubt he’d feel amazing. Rudy moans in his sleep and it sends a jolt straight to my pussy. His cock is pulsing in my hand and I can’t wait any longer.

I lift up and line him up with my entrance. The head slips in and I can’t help but gasp. I brace myself on his chest and try to sink down as quickly as I can. Rudy stirs, his chin lifting up to the ceiling and his mouth hangs open. A long moan leaves his lips and I have to bite my lip to keep myself in check. I just needed him to cum. This wasn’t about me or pleasure.

I start to rock back and forth, my eyes fluttering when my clit meets his skin. His hands fists the sheets and I move faster, bracing myself on his chest as I start to bounce. I watch as his brows furrow together then his eyes slowly open on a groan.

“Wha—.” I smash my lips to his, not halting my movements. He hesitates for a moment before fisting my hair and kissing me hard, his tongue sliding over mine.

“Fuckkkkk. What are you doing to me?” Rudy grunts, his hands sliding down to grip my hips.

“You feel so good.” I purr, getting lost in the pleasure. Rudy tries to sit up but I push him back down.

“Oh, god.” He rasps, dazed and half asleep.

“Shit!” I cry as a powerful orgasm hits me and I dig my nails into Rudy’s chest. He groans loudly, gripping my hips and attempting to lift me off but I bounce harder, coming down onto his chest again as I kiss him.

“Wait, wait, I’m gonna—.” I feel him pulse inside me, his hands tight on my hips as I ride him through his high before dropping down on his chest. I just fucked my step brother.

I blink and sit up as Rudy watches me with hooded eyes, his lips parted as he sucks in breath after breath.

“Y/N, that was—.”

“Let’s get something straight, Rudy, I’m not on birth control. So unless you want the world to know about you knocking up your step sister then you better bury whatever dirt you’ve dug up on my mother.” I watch as his eyes widen and his breathing slows as it sits in. Then his face hardens, blue eyes narrowing at me.

“You fucking bitch. Get off of me.” Rudy sits upright and I scramble away from him, an emptiness like I’ve never felt before settles in between my legs. I snatch up my clothes and move to the door as Rudy seethes.

“You have to take plan B within 72 hours so what’s it gonna be, step bro?” My hand was on the door handle in case he charges me. I could feel his hot cum sliding down my legs. The rage in his eyes should’ve scared me but it didn’t. If anything, I liked it.

“I’ll fucking ruin you both.” Rudy snarls, hands balled into fists but I don’t miss the way his eyes scan my still naked form. I see him hardening again and he quickly cups himself.

“Not if I ruin you first. Drop whatever shit you have on my mother and leave. Go back to your glamorous life. I only want to see you on holidays. If not, I’ll make you a daddy.” I’m afraid to move, afraid he’ll lunge for me like a caged lion.

“I’ll shove that plan B down your fucking throat.” Rudy snatches up a pair of black boxers and slips them on.

“Your scare tactics won’t work on me. You’re the one who should be afraid of me. I’ve proved I’ll get my way one way or another. 72 hours Rudeth.” I throw the door open and slip out before Rudy can come for me. At this point, it was him or me.

And I chose me.

[arcade-writing]

Off with your Head

🍋 One shot

Pairing: headless horseman! Jayce X reader

Warning: Decapitation, Oral, rough sex, size kink, praise kink, scent kink, riding, gags, Dom/Sub dynamic, impact play, nipple play, cum play, Creampie

Gender neatural reader

Can't keep procrastinating on this forever! You have been warned and hopefully you will enjoy!

Thank you so much for all your support with my other Monster! arcane fics, espically with the popularity rising with my Werewolf Vander!

Thank you and let's hope I can keep making good content for y'all!

it's been like this for a few months now. Waiting by your window as you listen out for the familiar sound of hooves tapping against the stone path to your home.

You lived in a fairly private corner of Piltover, much closer to Zaun than the bustling glow of the main city. You preferred it that way. There was much more privacy than everyone crowding the streets outside every morning. And the rent was much cheaper. It let you be indulgent with your hobbies and have a nice place to call your own.

You never realized how empty it was until you met him. He completely changed your world. Flipping it upside down as he somehow charmed you. Leaving you like this, impaitent and longing for his company.

How long has it been since his last visit?

Suddenly, the clicking of hooves caught your ear. You shot up from your seat, rushing towards your door. You opened your door as wide as you could. A smile stretched from your mouth to your ears.

"JAYCE-!"

You met him half way, your face smacking into his stomach as he stumbled forward. He leaned down, picking you up and hugged you close to his chest.

"(Y/N), did you miss me?"

"of course! You were supposed to come here two weeks ago! I was getting worried!"

As he began to walk he walked into your home, bending down as he stepped through your doorway. Somehow still smacking his forehead as he did. You couldn't stop the giggles that left you. A large smile cracked on his face showing off his tooth gap and sharp canines.

"I'm sorry, I tried sending a letter but they must gotten lost before they could reach you - I've missed you alot." He nuzzled into your shoulder, breathing your scent in.

"Really? How much?"

You couldn't stop the blush that rose to your cheeks. feeling his lips graze your skin. It was ridiculous how much you wanted to just melt. His body was so warm and you were sure if he kissed you now you'd fall out of his arms.

You yelped as he suddenly loosened his grip on you. you slid down to his waist, face just reaching his chest. "WHOA- HEY-! you could of dropped-"

You felt something hard between your legs. Pressing snug against you. Your face exploded into a bright shade of red as your gaze flickered between your connected crotches and his face. Still filled with love and sweet yearning.

"-me....is that- is that your satchel o-or-"

"I've really missed you, the Handkerchief you gave me no longer smells like you, i couldn't wait any longer to see you again."

He explained, adjusting your legs around his hips as you were further pressed against him. He looked down at you with an almost sheepish smile. Silently asking you if what he was doing was right. Despite his size and strength, he was always looking for your approval. what you wanted to do.

"but we don't have to do anything you don't-"

"always the gentleman, I want you too, Jayce."

You pushed at his chest, a gesture to him to keep going. He let you down much to both of your dismay. You took his hand and placed one hand on his stomach. Cursing at his monstrous height. Slowly leading him to the back door, into the second mini home you got installed just for him.

He landed onto the large bed as if your actual push weren't more than pathetic nudge. His legs sprawled as he grinned. His tail thumping behind him as you crawled to his lap.

"Did you ever....touch yourself whilst away."

"Yes.." there was a flicker of shame in his eyes. As if he said the wrong answer.

You simply pressed your palm to his bulge. Slowly rubbing it up and down, smiling softly at him as he twitched at your touch.

"What did you think about?"

"You, I just wanted to ran back to you but my research wasn't done-"

"You thought about me? How?" You asked, faking innocence as you added more pressure into your rubbing.

"Please...(Y/N) - i just wanted to be inside you, make you feel good and - and kiss you."

You leaned up, having to straddle his waist to hover over him. Just before your lips could meet something clicked in your brain. A single realization that made your brain buzz.

"You were out in the open.... someone could of seen you."

"But they didn't-! I made sure of it!" Jayce didn't even want to think about the amount of times he had to find a crowded spot in the fields with a raging boner.

It was far too embarassing.

"How inappropriate, Mr Talis, are you really that shameless?" You tsk-ed, removing your hand from his growing hard on.

"Not only do you keep me waiting but were showing yourself off for anyone to see? Perhaps I should punish you...remind you how to be my good boy."

Jayces brain split between excitement and horror. On one hand he was worried he actually made you upset but then he saw the familiar look in your eye. Knowing only pleasure was going to come his way.

"Im still your good boy, I made sure to not be seen." He leaned up, slightly propping himself up.

"And the fact you're late? What excuse do you have?"

He immediately lit up. His brain switched completely. Sitting up properly as he began to explain himself, apart of him wishing he was able to pace. Rather proud of himself for his latest discovery.

"Oh! That's actually really good news, you see I've made abit of a breakthrough with the crystals I found! They thrive in organic areas, plenty of matter to feed from to produce magic-"

"Jayce-! As happy as I am for you, perhaps tell me when we're not about to- ya know-" you slightly cringed at yourself. Now hyper aware of what you're doing.

"Oh- yeah, yeah! Right!"

"I love you, you know that?" You laughed, finally Kissing him.

"I love you too - am I still getting punished?"

"If you keep looking at me like that I might not have the will to do it."

That wasn't fully correct. Infact it only tugged at that sadistic part of you to ruin him. But your much softer side yearned to just keep him all love struck and have that goofy smile of his on his face.

"Oh really?" He smirked. As if he just won a competition, smug and proud.

"You're such a brat." You scoffed, lightly smacking his large chest.

When his smug look only grew you rolled your eyes. "What? You really think I'll let you do as you please because you have a handsome face? How narcissistic of you."

"It's worth a shot." He shrugged. Still smirking.

You shook your head. Deciding what you'll have to do to put him back in his place.

"So talkative...I think I know what I'll be doing first."

He tried to hide his whine as you moved off him. Pulling a box from under the bed, fishing out everything you needed. You stood back up, a crop in hand and a gag in the other.

"Put it on." You handed him the gag.

He looked down at it with twitching lips. Tightening the straps buckle at the back of his head. It looked very familiar to a bridle. A choked moan muffled as he pressed the ball shaped gag further into his mouth. Already beginning to drool.

You smiled at him as you smacked the crop in your hand to your palm.

"Undress." You gestured to his clothes, without hesitation he began to undo the buttons.

You grabbed the belt under his chest, tugging at It. "Keep this on."

He nodded. Finding a way to take off his shirt without fully taking off the belt. Throwing his clothes aimlessly to the floor with an eager grin. Stumbling and kicking out of his pants, almost stomping on his tail.

"Good boy!"

You kissed the ball of the gag just to tease him. Before kissing his forehead, giving his hair a slight ruffle. He leaned into your touch as he awaited his next order.

You pushed him back down on the bed. He laid there at your mercy. Unable to say a word only able to muster a pleading whine. You smacked the crop on his chest, causing him to jolt. His hands clenched the sheets beneath him as you slowly dragged the crop from his collar bone down to his nipples. Gently tracing around them before leaving a harsh smack just above one.

You always loved how sensitive he was. Pre cum leaking out of his massive cock as you sat down beside him. Placing a kiss to where you smacked, trailing your lips down to his nipple. Twirling your tongue around it as you used your free hand to roll his other nipple with your thumb.

He tried his best to not move too much. But the way you were making him feel was delicious. Already struggling against his gag as he felt the overwhelming urge to kiss you. He had to be strong for you. Be your good boy.

You stood up once again, dragging the crop down from his chest to his cock. Following the trail of hair on his stomach. Ghosting it up to the tip of his dick. Giving it a gentle smack before you sat between his legs. The smooth fur slightly tickling you. Placing the crop on his hulking thigh you leaned down, kissing the tip of his dick.

You grabbed the base of his cock, slowly pumping it. "You're so amazing, Keeping yourself restrained like this without me even asking - this is why you're so perfect for me."

The words came out as a purr. Squeezing his cock as you gave it another kiss.

"My perfect boy, always doing your best for me, I'm so proud of you."

Your jerking became faster. He was a mess. Moaning as every word of praise went straight to his dick. Becoming painfully erect in your hand as you continued to shower him in praise.

He tried to warn you but it only came out as muffled noise mixed in with whimpers. A thick rope of cum splattering on your face. You wiped the cum off, blinking away your surprise. Looking down at your hand with a raised brow.

"I didn't expect you to cum so soon, you must of really missed me."

He nodded furiously. Another whimper escaping him.

You decided to have some mercy. Using one hand to pull down your pants along with your underwear. Throwing it on the floor. His eyes were immediately trained on your sex. Your own excitement now visible. You hummed as you lowered your cum covered hand, gathering as much as you could from his weeping cock.

He was completely stuck. Just staring as you scissored your hole, thrusting your fingers in and out. Coating your walls with his cum as you gasped and moaned. Stabilizing yourself over him as you fucked yourself. Grinding against your fingers as you stretched yourself out.

"You've been so good for me, you want a reward?"

He nodded. Still watching you. Unable to look anywhere else.

"Gotta remove the gag, Honey, or else I'll never know what you want."

Jayce was quick to unbuckling the gag, gasping as he ripped it from his mouth. Drool coating his lips causing them to glisten. They were red and puffy. Matching the same red hue on his cheeks.

"i - I want to try something."

"oh? What is it?" You paused your movement's, ready to turn your focus fully on him.

"I want to eat you out whilst you suck my cock."

"that's all? I should of known." You chuckled to yourself, smiling.

You got up and prepared to sit on his stomach, knowing it would be abit of a stretch but you couldn't deny him. But he placed his hands on your hips, shaking his head.

"i- just don't freak out." Was all he said before he slowly pulled off his head.

You've seen him take off his head before. Curious on how it worked but he still worried for your comfort regardless.

Jayce slid off the bed, grabbing a few pillows. Helping you on your knees and made it so you were propped up by them. You thanked him for his assistant but still weren't sure where he was leading this.

You looked back at his head, sitting behind you with shining eyes. The dots finally clicked and you stared to the wall. Deciding if you were ready for this but you were curious on how it would be. Maybe you could utilize this another time.

You nodded your head. Lifting yourself up as his body grabbed his head, leaning his head on a pillow. At the perfect angle to reach your hole. You gently pressed down on his mouth, jolting at feeling his tongue on you. Mewling as he kissed and licked you up. You turned your attention to his throbbing cock.

Swirling your tongue around the tip before licking up the pre-cum. Trailing sloppy kisses down his cock, paying extra attention to the top of it. Sucking the side just under the head of his cock causing him to gasp. The vibrations making you let out a moan. Running your tongue up a long thick vein on underside of his cock. Watching him struggle to keep his composure as you finally put it in your mouth. His hands twitching and clenching at his sides. Lowering your head down, taking in as much as you could before tears stung at your eyes. He was far too big for your mouth.

You used your hands for the parts you couldn't fit. He moaned and whimpered, jerking his hips forward. Bopping your head up and down as you paid attention to his most sensitive parts. He was moaning against you, slurping you up. Tasting himself on his tongue mixed in with your arousal.

His hands found themselves on you. One holding you under your armpit, keeping you slightly propped up as your grinded against his tongue. And the other was on your head. Pushing you further down his cock.

You choked around it, tears falling down your cheeks as he fucked your face. You wish you could see his expression. Watch him become undone again but the way he was eating you out. It was too good. He was like a starved man. Savouring every last drop.

He pulled you off his cock, you let out a high pitched gasp as you came. Twitching as his tongue lapped you up. You sucked on the tip of his cock as you rode out your high causing him to reach his own release. Cumming down your throat. You gulped down as much as you could as you lifted yourself on wobbly knees. Steadying yourself against jayces broad body as you looked back at his head.

His eyes were cloudy and he looked completely blissed out.

"Jayce..? You okay?" You already knew the answer but you wanted to make sure.

"I'm amazing, did I make you feel good?" His words came out slightly slurred.

You chuckled, abit breathless. You sat down on your bed, picking up his head and hugging it to your chest. He looked up at through his long lashes with nothing but awe in his eyes.

"I feel great-! Just - that was very new."

His body sat behind you, pressing against you as you felt his still fully erect cock against your hole. You whimpered as he positioned it, slowly dragging it against you.

You were suddenly lifted, he got comfortable under you and placed you just above his cock. He looked up at you, silently asking you for your permission. You nodded, hugging his head closer as you were lowered down.

Letting out a hiss of pain as you were stretched. You doubt you'll ever be use to how big he was but that only made you roll your hips. You wouldn't have it any other way.

When skin met skin you both Stilled. Catching your breath as you leaned down, placing his head down before he pulled you back up. Holding your hips as he helped you bounce. Your eyes rolled back as his cock hit the perfect spot. Jayce bit his lip as he watched himself fuck you. Having the perfect view of your hole getting stretched by his cock. He was able to see Everything. It made him whimper.

"enjoying yourself? L-like watching me- me get fucked? You moaned out.

Jayce let out a shaky breath. "You're so beautiful like this."

You felt yourself get close. The band begining to tighten in your stomach. You slapped his thigh, he immediately stopped his movements. Before he could ask you what was wrong you already began to speak.

"as enjoyable as that was, I would like you to have a head again."

He made a small 'oh' face before chuckling. You grabbed his head once again, giving his lips a quick peck before handing him over to his hands. It was strange to hear him twist his head back onto his body. You tried not to focus on it, instead focusing on getting fucked.

He was suddenly ontop of you. Your face being pressed against the bed as he hunched over your smaller form. He kissed your shoulder as he began to pick up his pace again. Fucking into you just as greedily as he was before.

"Jayce~! Good boy!" You moaned, intertwining your hand with his. "You make me feel sOooo good!"

"yes-! Keep fucking me! Right there-!"

He was pounding into you now. Chasing after every word of praise as he grabbed your hip. Putting your ass more in the air as he positioned himself better. Leaning on your shoulder as he brutally fucked you.

The knot that was forming in your stomach came back in full force. Your orgasm getting closer and closer as you moaned at more words of encouragement. Even when you came around him he kept going. Able to slide in and out more easily now.

He didn't stop until he climaxed. Releasing a large load deep inside you.

"(Y/N)-!" he moaned out your name before falling on his side. Slipping out of you and brought you down with him. Snuggling close to you.

"I love you." He mumbled. Closing his eyes.

You shook your head. Getting comfortable as you leaned against him. "I love you too."

[vermillionflames]

Wedding Night

Gaara x Female Y/N

Word Count: 2,244

Warnings: arranged marriage, virgin sex, oral sex, unedited smut

I was nervous. My heart had been racing all day thanks to my wedding day anxiety, and the unsolicited advice from literally every single woman attending did not help. Neither did my father’s look of sympathy as he gave me away. My heart, having beat so fast it ran out of fuel, had dropped to the pit of my stomach the second we got into the carriage to take us to our home. This was the first time I was truly alone with my now husband, and it was dead silent. I was convinced he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, bored out of his mind, while my mind was reeling with all the scenarios that could happen.

The Kazekage was many things, but not a charmer. That much I was certain.

The carriage stopped and a guard opened the door. Not acknowledging me, again, Gaara got out first. A second guard presented his hand to help me exit as he continued towards the door. Lovely.

The house was massive, and right in the middle of the village. My face became hot realizing how easy everyone had access to it. Not only did it seem unsafe, the lack of privacy was a waving red flag.

Then I noticed his siblings standing in the door frame. We would have witnesses to our consummation.

I tried not to dwell as I followed Gaara inside.

His siblings vanished from the porch and then the door shut with the wind.

“We have the place to ourselves tonight,” he spoke in a low, monotone voice, “They reside here as well and will be back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully they don’t bother you the same way they bother me.”

“Was that… a joke,” I tried to crack a smile but I was so anxious it didn’t translate through my face.

For the first time all day he really looked at me. The silence was heavy. My shoulders slouched and my face dropped after a few moments, he was disappointed with his bride.

“Come,” he turned around and started up the flight of stairs, “I’ll show you to our room.”

Not having separate rooms detracted half the advice I had been given early, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with being alone when I went to sleep my first nights in a new home.

Gaara opened a door on the second floor and led me inside. The room was nothing special. A king size bed in the middle of the left wall, wearing deep blue sheets. Across were two armoire closets, made of cherrywood, and a door that seemingly led to a bathroom. It was bare, unlived in.

I turned to look at him by my side.

“I don’t have much skill when it comes to decoration,” Gaara said, meeting my eyes, “You can change everything to suit your liking.”

“O-okay,” I answered.

We stood there in silence, staring at each other, yet again.

My face got red as I realized it was about to happen.

“Um,” I stuttered, “Shouldn’t the sheets be white,” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed.

“If you want white sheets we can have them delivered in the morning,” he replied.

My brows furrowed in confusion, “I mean, like, for the blood.”

“What blood,” he asked, stepping closer he grabbed my hand and lifted my arm, “Are you injured?”

“No,” my heart shot up from my gut to my throat, “For the consummation,” I spoke too loudly for my liking. He placed my arm back down at my side.

“You are…,” he looked at me, “A virgin?”

I wanted to crawl into myself and die.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“That is good to know,” he walked towards the bathroom door, “I was hoping we could wait. I know everyone wants you swollen with my child by tomorrow, but,” he opened the door, “I think it best we get to know each other a little more. Your clothes should have been put in the closet on the right, I’ll be in here until you're changed into your pajamas.”

I was relieved at his idea to wait, though part of me just wanted to rip it off like a bandage. Then I got sick again knowing that I have never owned pajamas in my life… and that I sleep naked. I stalked to the closet, hoping there would be something that resembled sleepwear or that my mother had packed my belongings and threw me a bone. Inside all I found were tiny lace pieces and short satin dresses. Obviously, my ninja gear had been omitted from the move since I was no longer allowed to be in active duty, but nothing besides lingerie was inside the closet.

I threw open the single drawer at the bottom, praying for a miracle. It too had nothing but sexy underwear, and I wanted to faint when I saw leather straps. Who did this?! My shock made me lose my grip on the drawer and it fell onto the ground with a loud crash.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I answered too quickly and too loud.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t sleep in my wedding robe. I looked at all the dresses, concluding they revealed too much for a sexless night.

“There’s, um, there’s no pajamas in my closet,” I called to him. The door unlatched and opened as Gaara walked to me.

“I’m sure they just hid it from yo…” he trailed off taking in the mess on the floor, “There has to be something here.”

Gaara picked up a black strap off the floor, “What even is this,” he asked, tossing it aside. “Is this supposed to make me horny,” he picked up a tiny, lace thong, “My sister must have gotten your size wrong.”

I spit out an embarrassed laugh.

Eyes narrowed, he shuffled through the mess on the floor. “Why is there nothing but underwear in this whole closet?!”

“Can I just wear something of yours,” I asked.

His face softened, “Of course. What’s mine, is yours.”

His closet was full of clothes and pajamas, so I had plenty of options. He handed me a large black t-shirt and red drawstring pants. I nodded in thanks.

Gaara went back to the bathroom while I changed. I threw the shirt over my bare chest, swimming in its size. Then began the mental debate of panties. The ones I had worn with my wedding robes had meant to suck me in and were too tight for sleep, so I removed them. I picked up the pait Gaara had thrown aside earlier and put them on, not wanting to be bare underneath his pants. His pajamas were too big for me, but they were comfortable and warm.

“I’m done,” I called as I climbed into the bed. Gaara emerged from the bathroom, having also changed into pajamas, which matched mine. He flicked his wrists and the lights went out. I felt him climb into the bed next to me and settle. The quiet lulled me to sleep, where I dreamt of my husband touching my body.

Something in the night startled me awake. I ripped my eyes open, seeing the bare wall. In my sleep I had turned onto my side, my back facing Gaara… only... He had also turned onto his side and had his arms wrapped around me. His hand had wandered up my shirt and was now resting under my breast.

I squirmed to try and move myself, but he only tightened his hold around me. Panicking, I grabbed his arm and pulled it down, forgetting how strong I was. His shoulder popped and I felt him wake up. His hand remained too close to my boob, which he noticed. He flipped himself over mumbling an apology.

“Wait, Gaara,” I turned, poking his shoulder.

“Hmmm,” he grumbled, half asleep.

“I want to,” I blurted out. I blushed at my confession, but honesty was the best policy.

“Want to what,” he asked, turning onto his back.

“I want to consummate our marriage,” I whispered, regretting how I worded it.

Silence was my answer.

“Um, nevermind,” I moved to lay back down but Gaara sat up and grabbed my face, bringing me in for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss was nothing like the one we shared during our ceremony. My body tingled in response. I whimpered when he pulled away, wanting more.

“Are you sure,” he asked, holding my face in his hand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised before kissing me again. His tongue licked my lips asking for entry. I parted, not really knowing what to do. I just knew I wanted him as close to me as possible.

Gaara laid me onto my back, continuing the kiss. He paused to look at me, I fidgeted under his eye. He smiled, genuinely smiled at me, before continuing the kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, a feeling I won’t soon forget, before trailing kisses down my jaw and neck. His fingers played with the hem of my shirt, his shirt. Tickling my stomach and hips before pushing the fabric upwards.

“I want to keep it on,” I gasped, not ready to be fully naked in front of him, despite the lack of light.

“Okay, Y/N, but anything you keep on, I get to keep on and we can’t make love unless we take off our pants.”

His choice of words shocked me. Make love? We hardly knew each other. Still, I nodded in agreement.

His hands moved to the waistband of the pants I was wearing and slowly pulled them down. He cocked his head to the side, recognizing the thong from earlier.

“I guess Temari did get your size right,” he winked.

I took a deep breath as his fingers looped around that waistband and pulled down. The most private part of me was now bare to him.

“If you want to stop at any point, please tell me. You can shove me to the floor if you want,” he waited for me to acknowledge him before continuing. I didn’t trust my voice so I nodded.

One second he was staring at me, the next his head had fallen to my core. I soon realized what he was doing. His tongue licked up my folds, making my yelp. I had touched myself before, but my fingers never felt like this. I felt him smile with pride as his licks made me squirm and gasp. I kept my hands at my side, gripping the sheets. The pleasure increased when Gaara wrapped his mouth around my clit and lightly sucked, continuing the tongue laps. The bed beneath was soaked from how wet I was.

On instinct, my hands went to his hair and pulled him closer to me as I begged for more. My embarrassment and anxiety from earlier had vanished due to my lack of need for his touch. I didn’t want him to stop, and I told him that too.

I felt one of his fingers enter me, making my volume increase. He pumped his finger before releasing my clit from his mouth.

He looked up at me from his position at my hips, our eyes met and my body came undone.

“Do you still want to,” he stood at the side of the bed when my orgasm stopped rippling through me.

“Yes,” my voice was so heavy with desire I didn’t recognize it.

“Shirts still on?”

I blushed but nodded.

“Okay,” I watched Gaara remove his pants, revealing a long, hard cock. My body hummed in excitement as he climbed back on top of me.

“Y/N,” Gaara grabbed my face with one had, forcing my concentration on his eyes and not his member, “Remember what I said about stopping me?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly.

He smiled, “Good, now look at me.”

I kept eye contact as he entered me. My face slowly shifted into one of discomfort as more went inside. It wasn’t painful like I had been warned, but it was a new sensation that was extremely uncomfortable.

Gaara groaned when he was fully sheathed. He didn’t move his hips, opting to kiss my cheeks while I got used to his size.

“Please,” I finally asked, “Give me everything.”

Gaara growled in approval before moving his hips backward, slowly he thrust in and out of me. I moaned, moving my hands to grab his back and hold him to me. He took my expression and noises as cues. Once I had gotten louder, and wetter, and quickened his pace, causing me to scratch down his back.

“More,” I begged, and he laughed.

“Tonight, this is as much as you get. I don’t want you to be too sore,” he angled himself to hit a particularly pleasurable spot and I cried out.

We were both sweating, moaning messes when I felt my orgasm approach. Gaara must have felt it too because he quickened his pace enough to meet me. We came together, which is something the old hags told me would not happen. Gaara laid on top of me for some time before flopping over.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes,” I was still catching my breath, “That was so much better than what I was told would happen.”

“Oh?” Gaara sat up, massaging circles into my tummy, “Just wait until we become more accustomed to each other’s bodies.”

[angry-geese]

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw. Fingering, tender sex, morning sex, praise kink (sort of), unprotected sex/breeding kink, mention of pregnancy (its like one sentence). Established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut. Afab reader.

Notes: domsetic fluff turned morning sex

Days where you wake up in his arms are rather rare.

Usually, he's ready for work by the time you get up. His day starts earlier than yours. You still make it a point to give him a kiss before he leaves. He'd often have something for breakfast ready, and make you lunch if he had the time. Nanami was always a better cook- you were a bit of a terror in the kitchen. When he arrived home he'd tell you little about his work. You knew of it, although he had little to say. He only actively spoke of it if he had overtime, and only to complain.

That didn't mean you weren't curious. There were a million questions you had for him; if he answered one, it would only add to the growing pile of other ones.

Married life wasn't what you expected.

It took a year to convince him to date you. Prior to that, the two of you had been roommates for nearly the same time. Over time you had gotten used to having him around. He was the one constant in life. People came and went, jobs you started and quit, but he was always there.

Things weren't all that different from the way they were before. Switching to married life felt natural. So much so that it was a bit frightening. It makes you wonder if this is all there is to it. If that's the case, then you could live with it.

You're not quite sure what wakes you up, but you're surprised to feel his body still beside you. Early morning light streams in through the cracks in the curtains. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. The faint scent of his cologne—something woody mixed with something sweet, like vanilla—still hangs onto him. Uncertain if he's still awake, you call out his name. To no response.

Slowly his hand creeps up your thigh, resting on your stomach for a moment before he's pressing his thumb under the waistband of your shorts. Nanami's touches are feather-light as his fingers just barely ghost over your skin. The soft feeling of his thumb grazing your clit makes you jump. He smooths a hand over your hair, cooing words of praise as he leans forward to nip at your ear. Goosebumps raise along your shoulder.

Nanami presses a quick kiss to your neck, going back to suck a dark mark into the skin. It'll be hard to cover up tomorrow. Gently he drags his thumb across your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. You part your legs just a bit to give him more room. He shoves down your shorts—along with your panties—baring your sex. You lift your hips for just a moment to kick them off, throwing them to the side. Your shirt quickly goes the same way. Then his. Nanami pulls you in for a quick kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip until you let his tongue into your mouth. The feeling of the slick muscle is intoxicating. You're already half drunk off the scent of his cologne.

He knows just how to make you melt under his touch. He has a way of pressing your buttons, leaving you crawling back for more. Part of you is embarrassed at how quickly you turn to putty in his hands.

When he pulls away, there's an audible pop! as your lips part. He leans back down to kiss you again. It's only a peck this time, but the same amount of fire is behind it.

A low laugh escapes him when he feels the slick that's collected between your legs. In any other circumstance you'd be a bit embarrassed at how quickly he riles you up. He hooks his arm under your knee, forcing your legs further apart. His thumb brushes over your clit, working in soft, teasing motions. When you try to grind down onto his hand, he simply huffs and pulls his hand away, leaving you aching with need.

"Ken, please-"

"Please what?" He asks. "Use your words..."

"Fuck me!"

To that, he cruelly laughs. The noise comes from low in his chest. You're almost ashamed at the throb it sends right to your cunt. Almost.

He mutters a soft "good" as he eyes you up and down, sizing you up like you're some sort of opponent.

He works you open with his fingers. Just the one at first—then adding a second—rubbing against your g-spot. His fingers are thin, but long, and know just where to prod in a way that makes you whimper. Your eyes roll back when he strokes a particularly sensitive spot. Nanami takes notice of this, and proceeds to add a third. His thumb rubs small circles against your clit. A familiar heat pools low in your stomach. His touches only make you more needy. When your pussy clamps around his fingers—you're close to your own release—he realizes his own need, pressing against your back. Grinding against your thigh only does so much.

Typically he isn't the type to tease. It makes you wonder what's gotten him so worked up.

He pinches your clit between two of his fingers before resuming their circles. His movements are skilled—he's had practice—making you melt under his touch. The wetness that collects between your thighs nearly drips down his hand, making it glisten in the low light.

He finds the squeal you make when you cum endearing, using the moment to kiss you, right on the corner of your lips.

You ride out your orgasm on his hand; shaky, but nearly ready for another round. It won't take you long- he's seen it happen before. Soon you're sitting up, facing him, your cheeks red and your lips bitten pink. He commits the look of your flushed form to memory.

He'd have to tease you more often.

Nanami palms himself through his boxers. He frees his leaking cock. The head is a ruddy color, and rather angry looking, swollen with need. His spare hand moves to knead the soft flesh of your breasts, working your nipples into stiff peaks. He guides your hand to his cock, closing your fist around his member. It's long—a little over six inches—but not too thick. The weight of it is heavy in your hands. You give him a few teasing pumps, making sure your touches are achingly slow. Instantly he notices, giving one of your nipples a harsh pinch, though not hard enough to hurt. When you squeak and mumble a weak: "I'm sorry" he only nips at your ear and chuckles. Any attempt you make to regain control of the situation only digs your grave deeper.

"Are you going to be good?" His lips press against your temple.

Weakly you nod.

"Good." He coos. "You're always so good for me."

He shifts so you're left lying on your stomach underneath him, hips lifted slightly and pulled flush to his. Your body is tacky with sweat—maybe a bit of saliva too—he drags you in closer. Nanami leans forward to mumble into your ear. Sometime during this his teeth find your shoulder, your flesh sporting a crescent shaped mark to show. You're not quite sure if it'll bruise. Probably.

"Had to work overtime." He says, the slightest bit of venom in his tone. "Again. Not happy."

At this you let out a small giggle. That's the second time this week. That must be why he came home so late last night. He never tried to hide his dislike for it. Instead of chatting with you, he simply went to bed.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, slick with his own need. There's no resistance as he presses right into you, although he still gives you a moment to adjust. Nanami fits right in you, your pussy so tight and warm around him. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to how good you feel. He's had his fair share of partners, but they all pale in comparison to you.

His large hands knead at the flesh of your ass and thighs. He's always admired how soft you are; the curve of your breasts, your stomach, your hips. Even the harsh angles of your face, the way it twists and contorts in pleasure. To him, you were truly the most beautiful thing in existence. There's not much he wouldn't do for you.

He's always preferred to fuck you slow and deep. He could watch you squirm and writhe under him for hours if you'd let him. Nanami has never been one for quickies. Sometimes they're nice, but he always prefers to take his time with you.

Slowly he rolls his hips against yours. You inhale sharply, gripping at the sheets. His pace starts out a bit slow, but he leaves none of your sweet spots untouched.

The second you start to get a bit loud he pulls out, making you whine in frustration.

"Needy today, aren't we, love?"

You grovel at the pet name, hardly amused. "Just touch me dammit."

Nanami's relatively collected demeanor falters when you clench around him, pulling him back in. His fingers dig into your hips, his nails leaving little crescent-shaped indents in your skin.

"Oh fuck-" his thrusts grow erratic, "fuck! I love you I love you I-"

"I love you too!"

His fingers lace with yours. Momentarily he brings your hand to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. The action is so slow and soft you're not quite sure if you feel it.

"I'm so happy I married you."

His free hand goes back to toying with your clit, harshly pinching the bud between two fingers before tracing circles around it. The movements are a bit erratic. He must be close. To stifle a groan, he leans forward, sinking his teeth into the junction of flesh where your shoulder and neck meet. Not hard enough to hurt, although it may leave a bruise. Some possessive feeling deep within him made him proud of the marks he left.

It's enough to send you over the edge. The dam has broken, the floodgates have opened. You cum around him hard, your entire body shuddering as you cry out. The neighbors certainly can hear. Noise complaints happen a bit too often for your liking. He groans as his own release paints your walls white. You feel so full.

Nanami pulls out slowly as to not spill any of his cum, taking a moment to admire his work, and the look of your fucked-out form; the red handprints on your ass, the nail marks in your soft flesh, the way your neck and chest blush along with your face. It makes him wonder how you'd look with your belly swollen with his child.

He'd have to do this more often.

Dramatically you flop down on the bed, chest heaving. A single drop of cum spills onto the sheets. He lays down beside you, taking a moment to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You'd be sore tomorrow. Your neck already sports red teeth marks, and half-faded hickeys. He presses a kiss to the mark, rather proud of his work. His arms snake around your body, holding you close to him.

Nanami has never been this much in love.

You're half asleep when he pulls away. It's almost time for him to head to work. Gojo needs his help with something, he's not quite sure what.

Gojo can wait.

He's tucking himself back into his boxers and getting out of bed by the time you turn around. If he notices you staring, he says nothing about it.

"Where are you going?" You ask.

"I'm making breakfast."

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

        ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[mrskurono]

Schweiden Sex Education: Intercourse || Wakatoshi Ushijima x Fem!Reader

Tags: mention of insecurities, vaginal penetration, slight size kink, soft sex, creampie, sex bruh

Character(s): Wakatoshi Ushijima (hq)

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: this will be the final installment of this mini series, ngl it ended up more popular and more touchy feely than I thought it would. thank you everyone for reading <3

part (1) (2)

inter·course /ˈin(t)ərˌkôrs/

noun; sexual contact between individuals involving penetration

“Do you hate her?”

Ushijima blinked a handful of times at the voice going unregistered to him. Korai of course had to repeat himself.

“Do you hate our manager or something?” The second to newest Schweiden member craned his neck around to look at the same lady talking with the captain, “I mean...even since I started last season it seems like it but I dunno, do you just hate her or something?”

No longer the new guys, Ushijima still felt confused on what his teammate meant, “Why would you say that? I’ve never said that.”

Korai shrugged. White haired man taking the ball from his bigger mates grasp and chucking the volleyball at the real newbie coming into the gym when Tobio arrived. Korai gut laughed when the dark haired man didn’t catch it and only wasted a little more time before wiping at his eyes to look back at Ushijima with what he’d just said, “You spend so much time staring at her. Thought maybe you hated it her since never talked to her.”

Ushijima’s brows pinched in the middle with the deepest furrow, “I never said I hated anyone.”

Once more with a shrug Korai figured he’d drop it, “Well man, if you don’t hate her. You must have one hell of a crush on her then.”

The word rung in his head when you said it.

Sex.

You were naked under him. Rightfully so after his first attempt to bring you, or any woman, to an orgasm. He should feel proud if not a little smug. All he felt was nervous. 

“Ok....sex,” You inhaled deeply now that most of your senses was collected. The real thing felt a lot different than your own hand and the same scenario being lit up on the tiny screen of your phone. Slight tingle from that orgasm you were wondering if you had been that hard up for a hook up. Dashing that from your mind you refocus on the Schweiden player before you, “I mean...I guess there’s not a lot to say about it. I’m sure you’ve seen porn or Korai I’m pretty sure played something off of Pornhub in the locker room at least once.”

That light anecdote didn’t seem to tear the man’s concentration away from you. Leaving you to wiggle a bit and get higher up on the bed. Thinking maybe he was going to follow. Ushijima remained staring at you with that all too familiar look on his face. A look you recall years worth of seeing from across the gyms at practice.

Without warning it dawns on you, maybe he doesn’t actually want to have sex with you. A feeling nothing short of claustrophobic when it hits you. The tingle you’ve felt since the locker room fizzles out with vigor. You’re exposed. Silly. Regretful. Suddenly to recount your words.

“I mean-” You stumble over words falling from your lips while looking up at him and trying to cover some part of you, “We don’t have to- Um Ushiwa- Uh Ushijima- I uh it’s fine if you don’t want to we can just forget this-”

“I don’t hate you.”

The slur of words from your mouth catch. His surprising you more. You stop trying to cover yourself with what little blanket you can up root. Instead your brows furrow uncharacteristically at him at the foot of the bed.

“What?”

Olive eyes dropping from you it’s the first time since he joined three years ago that you saw him actually break eye contact first. You’re nothing short of surprised when Ushijima, still naked, sits back on the edge of the bed. Easing up on the need to cover yourself. You realize he’s talking about something entirely different.

Brows pinched together you ask again what he meant. Crawling towards him now. Kneeling beside him unsure if you should lay a hand on him or something. His face seems complacent like normal but with the way he sounded. It just didn’t sound right to you.

Ushijima lifts his gaze to meet your naked body right next to his. Of course he couldn’t tear them away from your form before him. All those times he’d stared at you over the years. Only now realizing he’d been trying to think what you looked like in this exact light.

“...I...Korai thought I hated you,” He confesses in the weirdest manner. Finding the one thing he couldn’t take his eyes off of wasn’t your naked body. But your face, “I don’t....I never did. I just- I think I love you and it might have been my fault if I-”

Cut off directly by the feeling of your lips against his. There’s a spilt second the man doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Only to be thankful when he felt your hands gently take his and place them on your sides. Getting the gesture Ushijima curled his broad arms around your bare waist just as you curled your own arms around his neck. Delaying the need for a breath in the passionate kiss until finally neither of you could hold out.

“Lets make love instead,” You mutter against his lips. Feeling for the first time Ushijima trying to push back into the kiss like he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. Drawing your fingers down from the nape of his neck. Small circles over his collar bone to dip down between his well defined chest, you look up at him and smile, “...because I think I might be in love with you.”

Nothing short of a glimmer in the otherwise deadpan expression. Ushijima for the first time since the locker roomer took a kiss from you. Not just taking it. He downright kissed you back into the middle of the bed. Lips never leaving yours it was barely any fumbling as he scooped his big hands under your bottom and pulled you into his hips. Leaving you to hold onto his shoulders as the urgency of the kiss translated over to your movements together.

Sooner than later you felt his cock rub against your inner thigh. Only breaking the kiss enough as you kissed his cheek and the corner of his mouth with a breathy whisper, “Put it in...please, I want you to do it.”

Nodding there wasn’t a question to be asked. Ushijima understood more than anything where he wanted his cock to go. You telling him only sealed the fact he craved no one else.

Gripping his cock there’s a second when you adjust your hips and allow his length to slip up between your soaked folds. Earning a pleasant moan to bubble up between your lips. Any other time you might have been worried to take someone so big. But that was the last thing in your mind right now. Consumed with need all you could think of was the stretch of his cock inside you.

Rewarded with the real thing faster than anything else. You gasp. Making him stop half way to which you panic and tell him through a loud moan to keep going. Ushijima can’t stop but sink his thick cock down to the base in your sopping wet cunt. Nothing he could even imagine prepared him for this.

“W-Warm-” The low rumble of a moan echoed in his chest. Ushijima unsure what to do pushed his lips back onto yours. Just the way your walls clenched around him and you engulfed his senses was ethereal to him.

“Move....how you wanna,” You whisper against his lips, “I want you to fuck me like you’ve been wanting to all these years.”

There was hesitation. You were right he had seen porn and what they did. But none of that seemed desirable. Right now all he wanted to do was feel you. Consume you. Make every fiber of his being tingle with your body.

Slow to start Ushijima began rocking his hips into yours. Each movement earning more than just a lowly moan from you. Assured that it was wonderful by your praise and touching all over him. Soon it became a need for him to snap his hips into yours. Watch you squirm under him, mouth agape and eyes locked onto him. Everything intoxicating to every single sense the man had.

“ ‘gonna cum-” You bite back a moan as your hips bounce with each forceful thrust, “I- I think I’m gonna cum-”

“Please-” Ushijima buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting, thrusts hard and deep as he felt himself approaching a familiar feeling, “Please cum- I want you-”

Tongue gliding over your parted lips and swallowing the knot in your throat. It’s nothing like the knot growing in your stomach. Boxed in completely by the enormous man above you. It’s hardly possible to snake your hand down to your clit. But when you do your free hand gripes the back of his neck as your fingers dance around your already sensitive bud, “I- It’s too much- Fuck-”

For a split second he wonders what is too much but that is dashed when the shudder in your body starts at your toes and every inch of you twitches under him. Sealing the deal for Ushijima when he feels nothing short of heaven when your cunt tightens around him in a way no mouth or hand could ever mimic. All that stamina in the world for nothing when he pushes his hips into yours. Desperate to follow your lead.

Rutting into you as deep as he can until the warm gush of cum overflows into your cunt. You’d never felt anything so intimate yet even as his lips found yours to kiss you. The twitch of Ushijima’s cock with each spurt of cum had you moaning into the kiss like a virgin all over again. 

Both of you breathing harder than expected into the kiss. Finally came down from the high. His cock still buried in you and most of your body limp under him. You take a moment to swallow as you look up at the man before you. This time he was staring but you didn’t feel the need to turn away. Instead you smiled at him with a little giggle. And for the first time in nearly four years, Ushijima smiled back at you.

Minor Epilogue ;|

“Where’s Ushiwaka?” Korai dribbled the volleyball as he looked back towards the locker room.

Tobio looked up from his bottle after fiddling with the lid, “Hirugami didn’t say anything?”

White brows pinched together Korai bounced the ball as high as he could manage and huffed, “This is day three! He’s late and we get to wait for him!”

“You could just practice with Romeo and Sokolov before he comes.” Tobio offered without much concern as he grabbed the volleyball before Korai could catch it.

“Don’t break the lights Hoshiumi!” Hirugami shouted across the gym as he caught sight of one of the second youngest Schweiden harassing the volleyballs.

Grumbling to himself Korai snatched the ball back from Tobio, “Of course Hirugami-san!” Content with dribbling the ball at a much more manageable height, Korai looked around for a short stint at attendance, “You notice our manager has been late recently too?”

“And?” Tobio shouldered his duffel bag without a chance of even feigning interest in his teammates rant.

Brows still pinched Korai glared out at the double doors of the Schweiden’s gym, “I bet they’re hooking up. I bet- Look!” Korai skidded to a stop mid sentence when through the double doors it was the late Schweiden in question. Undoubtedly with their manager at his side. Like a detective Korai pounced on the chance to interrogate them but that was lost among the chaos when all of the Scweiden team witnessed Ushijima lean down and give their ever so wonderful team manager a kiss on the lips.

That’s when all insanity broke loose. 

Korai was on them like stink on shit. Tobio and Toshiro ready to intercept Korai before his rabid-ness scared the new love birds away. Tatsuto wanting a better look at the drama amongst the crew. Leaving Fukuro and Nicollas to exchange glances at each other as they hoisted up the volleyball net.

“Is that Ushijima and y/n?” Nicollas peered over to the bustling drama at the front of the gym.

Fukuro, minding his own business, nodded, “Think they’ve been going out for a while now.”

Smiling as Ushijima’s face seemed stone serious as ever and y/n’s face flush red as the white haired Schweiden had some serious question, Nicollas laughed as remembered that feeling, “Ah young love....wish there was an educational course one could take when learning the affairs of the heart.”

Fukuro snort laughed and tightened the bindings on the net they’d be using for practice if they ever stopped their gawking, “Yeah, we call that sex ed here.”

Nicollas chuckled when he saw their lovely manager punch Korai in the side. Revealing the oddest sight of Ushijima smiling ever so slightly on his stoic features while the rest of the Scweiden’s rallied around the new couple as the two seniors could only stand back and laugh, “Sex and love education....I think we could all use that.”

a/n: The end is finally here! Honestly I can’t believe I’ve actually finished a series in the first place! To everyone who’s read and supported it thank you from the bottom of my heart. This was too much fun to write and I won’t lie I might have a little soft spot in my heart for Ushijima now <3

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XI. Time is Running Out (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7954

Chapter Warnings: Language, Implied trauma, Violence and injury.

You were running. Every corridor connected into another one, each less familiar than the last. The muffled groans and sluggish footsteps got louder with every passing minute, as you felt yourself lose energy. You slammed another door open and ran down the next dark hallway, squinting as the lights flickered dimly to illuminate the dead.

Eventually, you reached a set of double doors and flew through them, not stopping to look back. Your lungs burned as you panted, and your legs felt unstable under you. Quickly, you turned the corner, only to see the dead end it concealed. Your knees buckled beneath you as you let out a sob, hands trembling uncontrollably. The undead closed in on you, swarming the doors and creeping through the crack one by one.

You pressed your back against the wall, scurrying to crawl away as you watched them approach. It was then that you spotted the first walker break through, trudging forward with its legs dragging behind. It was a man. It had been a man. It was tall and large, with a build nearly double your size. Despite the pale greyness of its eyes, you swore that its gaze leered over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

It gurgled as it got closer, blackish blood coming up from its mouth and splattering the floor by your feet. You noticed the wound on its chest, like a gunshot, that oozed each time it took a step. It got closer, reaching out a grubby hand and gripping onto the collar of your vest. You let out a scream as its snapping jaws hovered above your face, almost as if trying to say something. Yet, all that came out was watery groans as the blood spattered onto you. Despite it being dead, you almost felt its breath over your cheek before it lunged.

You bolted upright in your sleeping bag, bringing a hand to your face and neck to check the skin there. Heaving, your chest swelled as you gasped for breath, and your ribcage felt like it might burst open from the force. You whipped your head around, taking in the surroundings of your tent. The yellow canvas walls remained the same as they always were, and your polaroid string hung above you like a faulty dreamcatcher.

As you tried to regulate your breathing, you wiped your forehead and the back of your neck, trying to soak up some of the sweat that had formed there. It was the same nightmares as usual. You'd been having them for a few days following the incident at the bar - especially since Randall still remained in the Greenes' barn, not even a few minutes walk from where you slept.

The light stung your eyes and you rubbed the corners of them forcefully. Your sleep was usually disrupted, and you'd wake up periodically in the nights - so you often slept in now as a result. You hadn't told anyone about it, but you didn't have to. Daryl had noticed. The two of you had become closer after the incident, with him looking out for you a lot more than he usually did. He made sure that you didn't go anywhere near the barn, and had a lot to say when Rick decided on sparing the boy held prisoner within it.

In truth, Daryl had been your comfort these last couple of days. On the nights where you woke up in tears, drenched in your own sweat, he'd be conveniently sat near the firepit when you came outside to get some air. He'd say that he was keeping watch, but wouldn't go back to bed when you offered to take over - always waiting until you left, first. Even in the daytime, after you'd come around following a bitter cup of coffee, he wouldn't push you away if you wrapped yourself around his shoulders or grabbed his hand excitedly to show him something.

Sometimes, he'd even let you crawl into his tent when you wanted to ramble, listening for a while before his patience met its limit and he kicked you out. Still, you weren't sure what you'd have done without him. The sight of that shy smile of his, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes when he thought no one was looking - that was enough to keep you going when you had your doubts. Before you knew it, you realised that you would give anything to hear one of his shallow laughs, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself to pay for it.

Once you had settled down a bit, you pulled on a pair of jeans over your legs, to go with the button-up shirt you had slept in. Your curly hair was matted from the sweat, so you tied it up and away from your face rather than even attempting to comb out the knots. You were sure that you looked a bit of a state, but you didn't give it a second thought as you unzipped the yellow submarine and stood out into the morning air.

It had started getting a little colder, the dew collecting on the grass and forming little droplets that wet the toes or your boots. There was a slight chill in the air, where the breeze had picked up, but it wasn't quite cold yet. Still, you huddled the material of the shirt closer to your body and folded your arms, looking at the archer who sat a few feet over from you.

He glanced up for a second and gave you a curt nod, drawing his eyes away from what he was doing.

"You look like hell." He noted, not even looking at you as he said it.

Daryl sat on one of the tree stumps near the fire pit, head hanging down to focus on his hands. He had a rusted pocket knife in his palm, and was using it to sharpen one of the arrows he was making. You'd seen him do it before, watching mesmerised as he worked with the efficiency of a master craftsman. His hair seemed to be getting longer, compared to when you had first met him, and now draped a little in front of his eyes when he looked down. A few nights ago you'd teased him and asked if he was growing a mullet, but in reality you rather liked it.

You shot him a wide grin, dusting off your jeans as you took a seat beside him, ruffling his hair between your fingers in greeting.

"Then you must be heaven, angel." You winked, hoping that the teasing would distract from the grogginess of your voice. "Good morning." You added, seeing him shake his head at you.

He didn't grumble nearly as much at your jokes anymore. Sometimes, he'd even make some back. You enjoyed the playful banter, and the way it made your heart race when he let out the occasional deep laugh at you.

"You still wearin' that?" He asked, not even looking up.

You realised that he was referring to your button-up flannel shirt - the one he had given you. Most nights you slept in it, but you avoided wearing it in the daytime in case people noticed who it originally belonged to. In your half-awake state you must have forgotten to change out of it.

"Problem?" You quipped back too quickly, and you saw him roll his eyes at your defensiveness. "You said I could keep it." You reasoned.

Daryl hummed in response, blowing the wood shavings away from the stick he'd been carving.

"Looks like a dress on ya." He drawled, finally shooting you a sidewards glance and raising an eyebrow as he did so.

You beamed a smile at him, running your fingers over the material that draped down almost to your knees, and remembering how it had looked on him.

"And?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's comfy." You explained, before asking why he minded so much.

He ignored you, continuing to shave down the arrow in his hands carefully. You didn't relent, standing up so that you were directly in front of him, and giving a small twirl to show off the shirt.

"Are you missing it?" You teased, trying to prompt him to look up. "Do you want it back?" You poked, walking around the log he was sitting on so that you were behind him while he worked.

Daryl let out a small sigh at your antics, putting down the blade and resting the arrow beside him. You didn't give him time to turn around and scold you, slipping your arms over his shoulders and around him before he could. Your chin rested just above the crook of his neck, and you could feel the wisps of his hair tickling at your cheek.

"What would you do for it?"

You'd wanted to joke with him, but it came out like more of a shy whisper as you lost your nerve. Your cheeks were nearly pressed together and you could feel the heat radiate off his skin. His heartbeat was quick beneath your palms where they rested, clasped over his chest. It felt like you had handfuls of butterflies, fluttering nervously there. You suddenly felt your own pulse pick up, as your playfulness started to seem a lot less innocent than it had only a few moments ago.

Someone cleared their throat from behind you, and you instantly flung yourself back from the man in shock. It was clumsy, and you'd almost taken the archer with you as you slipped on the damp grass beneath your feet. Daryl shot you a glare after he had recovered, grumbling about how you'd almost choked him.

You heard a chuckle and turned to see Glenn watching the exchange, his baseball cap in his hands. Quickly, you fumbled out an apology which sounded more like an excuse, explaining how he'd startled you. He shook his head before giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sorry to interrupt." He started, looking between you and Daryl. The other man stayed silent, going back to his work like he'd never taken a break from it. "Could I borrow you for a minute?" Glenn continued, gesturing to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before he explained. "I'm doing some work on the RV with Dale. We could use some help and everyone else is busy."

You looked over at Daryl, and then back at Glenn, before agreeing. You gave the man a small wave as you said goodbye, not really sure of how to act around him now. You didn't know whether it was what you had done that made you shy, or the fact that Glenn had caught you doing it. In truth, you hadn't really planned for anything to happen, but you got caught up in the moment without realising it. You tried not to think about what could have played out if Glenn hadn't showed up.

Daryl gave you a quick nod as you left, and you and Glenn started walking towards the RV. In the distance, you could see Dale lounging on the roof of the vehicle, under his parasol like usual. He had his binoculars in his hands and gave the pair of you a wave when he saw you together.

"So," Glenn dragged, catching your attention, "what was that?"

"What was what?" You bit back, feigning ignorance.

The man didn't buy it, knowing you better than your cheap lies by now.

"You know what." He said, with an air of certainty about him. "You and Daryl, just now."

You stayed silent, not wanting to give anything away. In all honesty, you weren't sure yourself about what had happened back there, and didn't really know how to answer. If you were being truthful, you definitely felt something for the man. You had done for a while. Daryl, on the other hand, you weren't sure about. How long had it taken him just to be accepting of your touch, and not shy away from your hugs? How many hours had the two of you spent together before he stopped looking at you with distrust, or flinching away if you moved too suddenly. At this point, you were content with what the two of you had. Or, you tried to convince yourself that you were.

"I saw that whole thing back there." Glenn carried on, catching you lost in your own thoughts.

"Yeah?" You questioned, giving him a side-eye glance as you smirked. "Well I see you and Maggie sneaking off to the stables at night, but you don't hear me saying anything about it."

Glenn inhaled sharply beside you, seeming to choke on whatever reply he had planned. You let out a snort at his expression, and clapped your hand over his back as the two of you reached the RV.

"Choose your battles carefully, Rhee." You warned him teasingly, watching as he squirmed under your touch.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The three of you worked together on the RV for a while before taking a short break. It was mostly Dale instructing you to pass him tools and run to ask Hershel if he had the things you were missing. You were pretty clueless when it came to any kind of vehicle, so you tried to absorb as much as you could, mentally matching the names with all of the parts that Dale showed you. Glenn seemed to know much more, having spent a lot of time with the older man during the day. Surprisingly, you all got along really well and even cracked some jokes as you scrambled to remember which screwdriver head was which.

Glenn eventually excused himself to go and help T-Dog out with something, and Dale left you 'in charge' of the toolbox, as he put it, as he left to go with him. You hadn't been there long, sitting on the steps of the trailer in a daze by yourself, before Maggie had come out of the farmhouse with a pitcher of lemonade for you all. She sat down next to you, offering you a glass. You took a gulp, feeling the coolness run down the back of your throat as the ice cubes hit your teeth. It was really refreshing.

"Glenn told me about you and Daryl this mornin'." She looked over at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes at her, wondering when the man had even had time to say anything. He'd only gone into the farmhouse for all of five minutes to use the bathroom, before you all had started work on the RV. That boy never ceased to amaze you with his ability to run his mouth. You already felt exasperated by all of the questioning, and you hadn't even begun to start answering your own yet.

"There's nothing to tell." You corrected, but her smile didn't let up. "I already warned your boyfriend to worry about his own dirt, instead of trying to dig up other people's."

You shot her a look that you thought would tell her to drop it, but she didn't take the hint. Or, she didn't care to, more accurately.

"He thinks you're sleepin' together." She said matter of factly, taking a sip of her own lemonade nonchalantly and ignoring your expression.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, totally not expecting those words to come out of the mouth of a farmer's daughter. Then again, you knew what she and Glenn got up to when they thought nobody else was around.

"Maggie!" You gasped, slapping her shoulder.

The lemonade spilt out of the top of her glass slightly, and splashed onto her jeans.

"What? I didn't say it." She frowned at you, wiping the stain. "Can you blame him?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

You usually felt like you could talk to Maggie about anything, and rarely got embarrassed at any of the details she shared with you, either. Yet, you couldn't help but feel a bit dumbstruck at the allegation. The thought of you and Daryl - sweet and shy Daryl Dixon - sleeping together had just tipped you over the edge like lemonade in a glass.

Maggie went on, ignoring your stunned silence. "The two of you got ya tents away from the rest of your group, and hang around each other most of the goddamn day." She pointed out, nodding her head in the direction of your camp in the distance.

"That's not fair." You pouted. "He's my friend, and I spend the same amount of time with you and Beth as I do him." You defended, but she crossed her arms and gave you a once over - making an obvious point of looking you up and down.

"You're wearing his shirt." She said flatly, glancing at it like she'd been waiting to bring up the observation for a while now.

"And some days I wear yours!" You retorted, raising your voice in desperation.

You stood up from the step, and Maggie laughed at how flustered she'd made you.

Before she could add anymore, you spotted Glenn walking back to the RV with a dumb smile on his face, totally oblivious of the chaos he'd caused. You shot him a glare, causing Maggie to look over in his direction.

"Glenn Rhee, get your ass over here now!" You yelled at him, and watched as his face fell.

He looked over at Maggie, who just shrugged her shoulders and collected the empty glasses. She gave Glenn a quick peck on the cheek before whispering something about him being on his own, before leaving to return to the farmhouse.

"Ah shit." He muttered below his breath, looking over at you with a sheepish smile.

You stayed by the RV well into the evening, after chewing out Glenn and sending him on his way. You'd offered to put all of the tools back since Dale wanted to go out for a walk and check on the fences around the area. He gave you a warm smile as he left, offering you a 'thanks, kid' that reminded you of your own grandfather. You didn't even try to argue back with him that you were in your twenties, just sending a smile his way in return.

It was already dark outside, since the seasons were changing and making the world seem more shadowy at earlier and earlier hours each day. You had borrowed a jacket from Beth the last time she came out, handing you a sandwich in place of the dinner you'd skipped. The air was chilly and you were grateful for the extra layer protecting you against the cool night's kiss. The breeze rustled the leaves and made a few flutter down to the ground, next to your feet.

It was peaceful, and you could see the warm light flicker through the windows of the Greene farmhouse. The rest of the group were out doing perimeter checks and mending some of the fences, so it was just you standing as the sole guard of a rundown RV. Once you had finished organising the array of screwdrivers back into their meticulous places, just as Dale had instructed, you closed the toolbox and secured it shut by the latch.

You sat back onto the step, rolling your stiff shoulders and wishing that Daryl was here to give you one of his Spartan massages that hurt so bad but felt so good. You scarcely had time to relax before a scream had you bolting upright and alert. It was in the distance, you could tell, but it was definitely a scream.

Immediately, you rushed inside the RV to retrieve one of the pistols from the gun bag there, before setting off running in the direction of the yells. It didn't take you long to notice the group that had gathered near the end fence of one of the fields, close to the woods. You kept your pistol lowered in your hand as you jogged towards them, still not able to make out what they were all crowded over.

As you got closer, you saw how Lori was shielding Carl from the scene and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to witness. It didn't take long before it came into view, the sight of Dale on the ground and the dispatched walker beside him. It was horrifically graphic. The man you'd been joking with not even an hour before now laid there with his entire chest cavity exposed. It was so violent that you weren't able to tear your eyes away as he gurgled the familiar sound of death from his throat, like the one you heard in your nightmares.

It looked as though his ribs had been pried open and you could only watch as the older man suffered. His eyes met yours, pupils wide and dilated as he tried to speak. You stared back helplessly before someone stood in front of you, blocking your view. The printed angel wings told you who it was before you even looked up.

You watched the ground as you heard the familiar cocking of a pistol, and your eyes rested on the fishing hat that had fallen a few feet away. Images flashed through your mind of Dale wearing it, and him putting it on Carl's head occasionally to swap it out with his sheriff's one. You kept your gaze on it, lying abandoned in the grass, as Daryl spoke to the man.

"Sorry, brother." He said, and pulled the trigger.

That night you returned to your tent alone, trailing slowly behind the others, and thought about that hat and the man who wore it. Glenn had picked it up and taken it with Rick and Shane, as they went to dig a grave for Dale. You kept thinking back to a few days ago, and how you'd all sat around the fire of the main camp, spread out on the deckchairs one night. Even Daryl had joined you, as you had bribed everyone to endure your company with the promise of Jack Daniels.

You brought the bottle with you in your satchel, taking a seat by the fire pit next to Dale, who shook his head when you took it out. You offered him a small smile and shrugged, telling him that you'd come across it whilst scavenging with Glenn and Maggie. As the others arrived, you poured some shots to whoever wanted any, and made them swear not to tell Hershel.

The night had been a small dose of escapism washed down with whiskey. There wasn't enough for you all to get completely drunk, but the tipsiness definitely settled in and got you all loosened up and giggling. At some point, Glenn had devised a game that resembled 'never have I ever,' but even got the people who weren't drinking involved.

Much to Dale's dismay, the slightly buzzed man had pulled the hat from his head and stated that whoever wore it had to answer one question completely truthfully. The fishing cap then made its way around the circle, as you listened to Shane talk about stealing a car, T-Dog's videogame collection, and how Carol had once put laxatives in Ed's coffee.

"You're kidding!" Andrea yelled in disbelief, when it was finally your turn. "There's no way you have a tattoo."

"I do." You smiled, taking a sip of your drink and feeling it numb the back of your throat. "And no, I'm not showing it to you." You winked at her, causing the group to laugh.

"It's in a risky spot, ain't it?" Shane teased, looking over his glass at you with a cheeky grin.

"No!" You shouted at him, which gained even more laughter from the onlookers.

Shane shook his head at you with a smile. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Lori piped up from where she sat. She wasn't drinking, now that she was pregnant, but she seemed content enough from the atmosphere.

"I can't believe you have one." She spoke, looking you up and down slightly as if trying to guess where it was. "I never pictured you the type."

You snorted at her words. "What? Just because I was a teacher for a short while?" You teased, crossing your arms.

People usually made the same assumptions about you, even before the world had ended. You had an education from a prestigious university, bright eyes and that naive look. It was only natural that most people didn't consider you as the type to hang around at rock concerts with your father or work part-time shifts at the bars he played at when they were understaffed.

"I have fifteen piercings, too." You added, feeling generous with your information.

Rick shook his head at you with doubt, and you found it refreshing to see the sheriff look so relaxed.

"What? Where?" He questioned, squinting his eyes at you. "How come we haven't seen them?"

"Because I keep my hair down most of the time." You explained, before tucking the strands behind your ears to reveal them.

A few members of the group came over to get a closer look, and you grinned like an excited puppy, showing off the metal jewelry to them.

"And I have my belly button done." You added, pointing to your stomach but not lifting your vest to show them.

T-Dog watched you with suspicion across the campfire, as if he couldn't entirely figure you out. His eyes were narrowed and you shot him your best grin as he stared you down half-heartedly.

"None of this fits my image of you." He admitted, and a few people agreed.

You shrugged your shoulders, pouring yourself another shot and not caring whether or not you should slow down. You felt better than you had in a long time. Even though your head felt a little fuzzy and your throat burned each time you knocked your glass back, you couldn't put a price on the laughter you all shared and the memories each of you recalled.

"What do you want me to say?" You asked sarcastically. "Pretend that I spent most of my time at libraries and not gigs, listening to Led Zeppelin?"

You heard a low chuckle beside you, as Daryl took the bottle from your hand and poured some more into his own glass.

"Thought you said you were borin'." He drawled, his accent even thicker from the whiskey.

"I am now!" You said loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat.

The others laughed a bit at that, before you went on, prying at the other man who had refused the hat of truth when it came his way. You'd tried to force it on that stubborn head of his, but had only succeeded in spilling one of the glasses and getting a scolding from Lori.

"What about you, Dixon." You eyed him where he sat. "I can't even imagine you existing before all of this." You admitted.

He raised an eyebrow at you, but you continued. "It's like you were built to survive an apocalypse."

You saw the others nod in agreement, staying silent to listen for the man's response. A few of them had seemed surprised that Daryl was even participating, and now looked even more confused at how the two of you interacted with each other.

"What d'you mean?" He asked, taking a swig from his glass.

You smiled to yourself before answering. "I don't know." You confessed, before addressing the rest of the group. "Can the rest of you picture Daryl Dixon mundanely watching TV, and eating pizza instead of squirrel?"

That joke got a lot of approval from them, as you saw Carol let out a snort in the corner of your eye, holding onto her own small drink with both hands.

"Shut up." Daryl grumbled in response, but you saw the slight smile that lingered on his face.

After that, you had placed Dale's hat back on the older man's head and gave him a hug before turning in for the night. You felt giddy from alcohol and good company, and had squeezed him tightly before telling him that no one else suited that old, raggedy fishing cap as much as he did.

The next morning after Dale's death was hard, but you'd all had practice in dealing with death by now. The funeral was carried out quickly, and Rick made a speech about how the group needed to honour Dale by being more in sync with their decisions - referring especially to Randall. You all then gave a few words, and said your goodbyes. Glenn had made a small wooden cross as a marker for his grave, and hung the fishing cap on top of it at the end of the informal ceremony.

After that, the Greenes had tried to distract you all by telling you to pack your things up and prepare to move into their farmhouse for winter. Given that they'd become a lot closer to you all in the last few weeks, and that Lori was now pregnant, they said that it was only reasonable. It would be a bit of squeeze to fit you all in, they admitted, but it would be better than freezing outside in flimsy tents exposed to the elements.

So, there you were, collecting your belongings and putting them into your worn satchel with care. You didn't have much, save for your polaroids, some clothes and your knife. The only things you had left to pack down were your sleeping bag and your yellow submarine, so you decided to go and check how Daryl was doing before you continued.

The two of you hadn't had much time to talk about the events of last night, barely exchanging a few glances and letting your palms brush against each other during the funeral. He'd gone through a lot in the last couple days, being left with the dirty work of torturing Randall and having to shoot Dale. Even if he seemed alright, you thought that he probably held some guilt for what had happened. You knew that you certainly did. You spent the night wondering why you hadn't gone with the older man, wishing that you'd gotten there sooner.

You clambered out of your tent with your satchel strapped over your chest, before walking a few steps over to Daryl's. His tent was unzipped, and you poked your head around the entrance to see him crouched inside, collecting his arrows and the few possessions he had scattered around. You watched him in silence for a moment, as if trying to find any sign of distress before he noticed you.

"Don' worry yourself, Sunshine." The man grumbled, sensing you.

He didn't even look up from what he was doing, which made you jump in surprise at having been caught.

"Jus' go pack down yer own tent." He instructed, folding up a pile of his clothes and stuffing them into a backpack.

"Sunshine?" You questioned, wondering whether or not the nickname was sarcastic, as you continued to watch him with suspicion.

You crouched down in the entryway, debating whether or not to go in.

"Look, Daryl-" you started gently, but he cut you off midway.

"'M fine." He said sternly. "Don't need no therapy session every time one of us kills someone."

You let out a sigh, deciding to go inside. You crawled your way past him, making yourself comfortable on top of his sleeping bag while he worked around you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on making it a habit." You admitted gently, seeing him stop what he was doing and look over at you.

"Ain't about what ya want. It's about survivin'." He corrected gruffly, his eyes meeting yours.

You gave him a sad smile before responding. "I know. But I don't want to live like that." You said. "There's a difference."

He shook his head, sitting back so that he was opposite you.

"Ain't no difference when yer dead." He muttered, and you could make out the slight flicker of pain behind his eyes.

You looked down to your hands, gathering your thoughts. You weren't sure whether you wanted to make yourself vulnerable to man by telling him your true feelings on the matter, but you felt like you needed to. You owed him that much.

"When I was out there alone, before I found you that day-" you started, recalling the days that seemed like a lifetime ago to you now. "That was surviving."

The man listened to you silently, his stare heavy as he took you in.

"At first, I was just grateful to be alive." You admitted, feeling ashamed to say the words out loud. "My camp, they were the brave ones."

You saw as Daryl started to shake his head to disagree, but you didn't let him interrupt.

"I just ran away and hid." You confessed, voice small as you said it. "After that I realised how unfair it all was."

Daryl stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding.

"What was unfair?" He asked, his words gravelly.

You met his eyes, already feeling like you'd revealed too much to him.

"How us cowardly would always be the last ones standing." You said softly, looking back down at your hands and thinking of all the people they failed to protect.

This time, Daryl responded quickly, moving closer to you so that you heard his words clearly.

"Ya ain't no coward." He spoke, his face near yours as he tried to catch your gaze.

You met it, fighting the urge to look away as the intensity made you want to tremble.

"You're a force, Teach." He told you, like it was a fact.

He stared at you for a few seconds, as though waiting for you to accept it.

You nodded at him eventually, letting out a small sigh as you realised that you'd been holding your breath.

"I don't want to just survive anymore, Daryl." You told him. "I want to live. I want a life that I'm okay with fighting to protect." You continued, feeling your voice grow stronger with each passing second.

Daryl remained still where he sat, giving you his entire attention.

"I know you hear me at night." You confessed, thinking back on the times you'd woken up yelling at invisible figures, or panting to try and catch your breath.

You caught his eyes flicker, as he fidgeted a bit and stretched out his legs.

"You pretend like you don't, but I know you do." You went on. "When I wake up from a bad dream you've always got your lantern lit, or sometimes you'll get up just to toss a log on the fire, and make an excuse that you can't sleep."

You smiled to yourself as you watched him feign ignorance, as though he needed to keep up an act you both knew had broken. No matter the type of man Daryl Dixon pretended to be, you saw straight through him.

"I'm at a point where I don't regret it anymore." You continued, not really sure where you were going with your speech. "Killing those men." You clarified, seeing him tense as you did so.

"I know it makes me sound like a monster, but I'd rather let the nightmares haunt me if it means that my family won't."

You took a deep breath, wondering if you should carry on to the point where there was no turning back.

"If it means that I can sit here now, with you, and be thankful that I was the one who managed to pull the trigger first." You finished, afraid to look up and meet his eyes.

You felt entirely exposed to him, as you sat there on the scratchy material of his sleeping bag, running your hands over it for comfort.

"Is this it?" He asked after a few seconds.

"What?" You replied, watching as he shuffled about in front of you.

"Is this the life you want?" He muttered, his voice coming out strained.

You nodded your head. "It can be." You told him. "It is." You reiterated, more certain this time.

You felt like all of your thoughts and worries were spilling out before you, like tipped ink spreading over paper. You couldn't stop yourself from telling the man everything.

"We've lost people," you acknowledged, not missing the way he frowned as you said it, "Dale and Sofia." You continued. "We'll probably lose more."

"But, call me delusional, I still have hope." You said with a smile, wondering if you truly were fooling yourself.

Daryl seemed to think so too, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"What're ya hopin' for?" He asked.

"I don't know." You answered.

"Some days it's for a cure to be found." You said, wistfully. "Others it's that we can all live peacefully on this farm until we grow old. Sometimes, I just want to find a matching pair of socks in my laundry." You finished with a slight chuckle.

"And recently, I've been hoping that it rains." You added, hoping that he wouldn't laugh at that one in particular.

He didn't, instead glancing out of the tent, towards the clouds gathered above it.

"Give it a couple days." He mumbled, and you didn't doubt him for a second.

"Yeah, I hope so." You responded, looking up at the sky, too.

You sat in his company for a bit longer as he resumed his packing like nothing had happened. He didn't seem to have much, either, but you still watched curiously as he went through it. After a short while you noticed him pick up a glossy magazine, and put it in one of the bags. You instantly recognised it as the one you'd given him before, from the gas station, about motorcycles. You were surprised that he'd kept it, since it had been a few weeks since then.

"Did you read it?" You questioned, before you even realised you had said it.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, matter of factly.

"And?" You pried, stretching out your legs to laze back further on his sleeping bag. "Got any tips for me?"

He scoffed at that, shooting you a glance as he zipped up the bag. "Don' fall off."

You rolled your eyes at him, before deciding to tease him back a little.

"Mark my words, Dixon." You pointed at him. "One day I'll be the one riding that thing and you'll be clinging onto me."

He didn't bite to it, sitting back down opposite you with a smug look on his face.

"You tryna give me nightmares now?"

When he finished, you reached for your satchel lying next to you, remembering one of the reasons you had come to see the man in the first place. You pulled out his flannel shirt from it, which you'd neatly folded earlier on, and offered it out to him.

"I was thinking that I should probably return this to you." You explained, as he gave you a confused look.

"Thought ya was gonna use it to bribe somethin' outta me." He quipped, snarkily.

You nodded at him, rubbing your thumb over the material.

"Yeah, I thought about it." You admitted. "But then I realised that we were all going to be staying in the Greenes' living room together from tonight. Practically on top of each other."

Daryl stared down at the shirt in your hands, but didn't take it from you. Instead, he leant back on his knuckles, as if moving even further away from it

"What's that have to do with 'nything?" He asked, and you wondered whether you were prepared to answer truthfully.

You thought back on the game you'd all played with Dale's fishing hat and wished that you were wearing it now, to be able to muster up some false courage.

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly, "then you'd realise that I sleep in it every night." You confessed, noticing how his expression changed a little. "And that would be embarrassing."

Suddenly, the silence started to seem stifling to you as you played with your hands in your lap, looking down at them. You felt your stomach flip as you awaited his response, but it never came. Instead of waiting any longer, you decided to get out of there before facing inevitable rejection. You cleared your throat and started packing up your satchel in a hurry.

"Anyway, I should go." You excused, trying not to appear flustered. "Got to haul anchor on the yellow submarine."

You picked up his shirt once again and held it out to him, looking over with pleading eyes and praying that he'd just take it so you could leave.

He didn't, shaking his head again at the gesture.

"Nah, it's yours." He said gruffly. "I don' care what ya do with it."

You spoke up, wondering if you were really willing to fight with this man over a shirt.

"You might not, but I'm sure the others would have something to say about it." You explained, thinking about how Maggie had picked up on it straight away when you'd worn it by accident the day before.

"Here." You said more sternly, placing it into his lap. "Back with its rightful owner."

Daryl took it from his lap and placed it beside him, as he fumbled around in his jean pocket and pulled out his zippo from it. He flicked it open with his thumb and you watched as the blue flame jumped up, before he closed it again.

"Got enough gifts from ya." He said, gesturing to the lighter before looking over to the backpack where he'd put the magazine earlier.

He then pointed to the shirt, laid out in the space between you like a bargaining chip. "What were ya wantin' for it?"

You realised that he was referring to what you had said earlier, before Glenn had interrupted, and recalled how dangerously close the two of you had been.

"Nothing." You choked out, but it sounded forced. "I was just teasing."

"Ya weren't." Daryl said with certainty, and you felt your resolve crumbling.

"You're right." You replied.

Your eyes flickered over the man sitting in front of you, at his skin that was glazed by the sun and how much time he spent outdoors recently, and at his pale, steely blue eyes that watched you, watching him. He seemed just as nervous as you were, as if waiting for something to happen - for either of you to make a move. Yet, Daryl Dixon was shy. He was a sweet man bundled up in layers of trust issues and insecurity, which sometimes reared their heads as anger and frustration.

You saw beneath that. You saw the way he looked out for the group, and how he was hurt more deeply than any of the others at the loss of one of them. You noticed how he'd be up earlier than anyone else, making sure it was safe, and then how he'd go to bed the latest, too. At the same time, you were almost certain that this wasn't the same man you hauled from the creek that day. He looked the same, give or take a few scars and want of a haircut, but he was different. You could tell how much he'd grown in just a short space of time. He was a good man before, even if people were often fooled by his abrasive exterior, but he was an even better one now.

You gave him a warm smile, and felt a lot calmer than you had done in a while. You knew it was now or never, and accepted that you were, in fact, willing to risk it all for Daryl Dixon.

"There's one more thing I've been hoping for, as of late." You admitted, moving from his sleeping bag to crawl over to where he sat.

He stayed still, watching with a shy look, glancing over you as you approached with caution. As you got closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the weight of his eyes lingering on you, you picked up the discarded shirt and showed it to him.

He looked down at it in your hands before meeting your eyes again. You let your gaze flicker over his face, taking in his shy expression, before settling on his lips. This is what you wanted in return for his shirt, and you needed him to realise that.

You noticed how nervous he looked, and how he seemed to hold his breath at the proximity you shared. You rested one of your hands over his, feeling how warm it was beneath your own, before asking him your question.

"Are you sure you still want it back?" You flicked your eyes to the shirt and back at him, making sure he understood what you meant.

His gaze rested on you for a few seconds, as you felt your breath catch in your throat waiting for his response. He nodded.

You smiled back, raising your other hand to cup his cheek gently, stroking over it with your thumb as you felt a wave of affection run through you for the man under your fingertips. They almost trembled against him, as you felt a mixture of nerves and pure, simple emotion swell to the surface. Though, you felt his hand squeeze your other one, where you held it, and relaxed into his touch that reassured you.

You closed your eyes and closed the remaining distance between you both, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that made you feel a lot more than you'd expected it to. He was warm, and sweet, and trembling slightly. It made you smile into the kiss, and press more firmly against his cheek to remind him you were there. Even though it was obvious that you were there, kissing him, you needed him to know that you felt the same as he did.

You pulled away slowly, trying not to push for more. Your hand left his face and rested back at your side, suddenly feeling empty. The silence was loud, but it was comfortable. Your ears weren't ringing as they usually did. Instead, you focused on the soft sounds of Daryl's breathing, and watched as his eyes flickered over you and down to your own lips with want, as you had done to his. Though, he didn't seem quite confident enough in himself to act on it, and remained still.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest from the adrenaline, and you decided not to tempt things any further with him, either. He didn't say a word for a few seconds, but you didn't feel any sign of rejection. You moved away from him a little, allowing him his space, before picking up his shirt for the final time and pressing it into his chest lightly.

"Now it's yours again." You offered him a warm smile, which you felt was perhaps too big for your face. He took it from you.

You found it hard to conceal what you were feeling, but the look in his eyes told you that he didn't mind all that much. You sat in wordless wonder for a few minutes, considering what to say or do next. The sky had darkened a little as the clouds blocked the sunlight, and you felt the breeze pick up as your exposed skin prickled at the chill.

Then, you heard footsteps as someone approached the tent in a run. You whipped your head over to see Rick appear, ducking his head through the entryway and looking at the both of you with wide eyes.

"I need you to come with me, now." He instructed. "Randall's escaped."

A/N ahhhhhhh. AHHHH. I was SO excited to write this chapter, I cannot even tell you. This is merely the BEGINNING - the first flicker of this SLOW BURN! Just you wait until that confession... I have big things planned ;)

As usual, drop me a message to be included in the tags list!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx ​ @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli

[sevendeadlymorons]

I accidentally deleted a request that I really liked, whoops. My bad.

But it was about the brothers confessing to MC so I’ll get onto that and not delete it this time 😅

Brothers Confess to MC

—————————————————

Lucifer

He wasn’t the type of guy who made such an extravagant confession, unlike his brothers

He believes just telling you the words is what matters the most. But that doesn’t mean he won’t spoil you today

Asked you to meet him at your favourite coffee shop, where you two sat and enjoyed your favourite drink together, just enjoying eachothers company

He walked around with you in the woods for a while, hand in hand, giving you occasional squeezes. He told you compliment after compliment, loving to see that flustered face of yours and that same smile that he loves

Eventually stops under a particularly large tree and says to you that he’s been wanting to tell you something all day, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a close embrace

He whispers the words “I love you” into your neck and gives you a small peck, awaiting your response

He watches as your face lights up and you tell him those 3 words that he’s been wanting to hear all day. He pulls you into another hug, lifting you up off the ground slightly and littering your face in kisses, smiling like an idiot

Mammon

He didn’t actually plan to tell you that day but he had invited you to the moving carnival and you looked so happy as you clung to his arm, pointing at the littlest of things

He felt his heart go crazy as you look up at him, gleeful as he handed you some cotton candy that he personally bought you

You two were wandering around, hand in hand, just enjoying eachothers company honestly, until he suggested you ride the Ferris wheel with him

When you were almost at the top, you felt him squeeze your hand and smile at you, taking a deep breath and blurting out the words ‘I love you’

It was so sudden, but the way he named off all the things he loved about you and how much you mean to him made your heart beat wild and you eventually kissed his cheek to shut him up, resting your head on his shoulder

You utter the 3 words back to him and you feel him smile widely onto your head, wrapping his arm around you and watching the sights of the ferris wheel with you

Leviathan

He didn’t plan on telling you today. At all.

One thing just led to another and you two were pissing yourselves laughing, the air around you was calming and he felt so relaxed around you, more than he ever had with anybody else

You was leant against him laughing, he was doing the same. You both didn’t even know what you were laughing at anymore, but the laughter was comfortable and the occasional breaks of breaths in between that were eventually spoiled by looking at eachother weren’t awkward.

It was just you and him against the world, like nothing mattered. And that’s what he loved about you, how comfortable and confident he felt by your side. How it felt like you two could be in completely different worlds but in the same one at the same time

He stopped laughing and sighed, getting a worrisome look from you as you stopped laughing too. You was going to ask if everything was alright until he suddenly threw his arms around you and hugged you tightly, squeezing the life out of you

He whispered 3 shaky words into your ear; “I love you”. He held his breath as you went silent. Why weren’t you saying it back? Did you not like him like that? I mean, who would he was just a yucky otaku—

Felt his heart leap out of his chest when you finally said the words back, smiling deeply into your neck and pulling you backwards, looking into your eyes with the most loving expression he could give

Satan

He’d planned this out for a while honestly

Invited you to his room one of the days to come take a look at a book he suggests you read, making sure tea and a bit of cake was prepared so you had something to eat and drink while you read it with him

He handed you the book, his hand over his mouth as he watched you read it closely, your eyes darting to him suspiciously every few seconds

As soon as you got to about half way, it began listing off your good qualities and reasons why he loved you. Satan averted your gaze as he shrugged and told you to keep reading

It went on like that for a few pages, naming off things he lived anoit your personality, before it finally ended and 3 words were plastered over 2 pages of the book

It read out the words ‘I love you’. You looked up at him and he was smiling joyously. He told you he loved you and told you to keep the book, then pulled you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head.

You returned his ‘I love you’ and hugged him tighter, listening to him hum in delight as he rocked you back and forth lovingly

Asmodeus

He’s going all out for you, everything must be perfect

Planned to take you to the most expensive restaurant in the Devildom and even bought you a new outfit for the date he’s taking you out on tonight

Meets you at the door, gleaming a massive smile when he saw you in the clothes he bought you. He took you by the arm and led you out the door

The date flew by as it was filled with jokes and Asmo’s seemingly endless amount of gossip and flirting, and before you both knew it, it was late into the night. He got up, held out his hand and walked you home, leading you to his bedroom for a quick cuddle when you got inside

Threw you on the bed as you laughed, crawling in with you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and snuggling into your chest, the laughter fading as you sat in comfortable silence in eachothers embrace

He sighed audibly and planted a kiss onto your head, telling you those 3 words; ‘I love you’ and lay his head on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes awaiting your response

You smiled happily and repeated his words, giving him a tight hug when he rolled you on top of him and started getting emotional. He’s never felt this before and he wanted to continue feeling it for a long, long time.

Beelzebub

Of course this mans confession is going to be food related

After all, food is the way to a persons heart and he knew exactly what you liked

Thought instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant, he’ll have a stay at home baking day with you. He’s already got the cake recipe ready

The day was filled with laughter as you desperately swat Beel’s hand away when he tries to eat all the ingredients, and of course, staring at the recipe in confusion as you both realise neither of you could cook

At the end of the day, you both stared at your masterpiece. A cake almost the size of Beel and covered top to bottom in frosting and sprinkles and all your favourite toppings. Beel said he needed to do one more thing before they could eat it, grabbing the icing from off the table and spelling out messy words onto the bottom layer

He smiled gleefully as you stepped forward to read what he wrote; “I love you”. His smile was blinding and you could practically hear his heart beat as he stood there twiddling his thumbs.

He waited for your response, almost falling back when you giggle and lunge for his neck, clinging on to him in a big hug, repeating the words “I love you” to him as he spins you round, overcome with happiness

Belphegor

Ah, Belphegor. He’s pretty laid back when it comes to confessions honestly

He didn’t really have any type of plan in mind, he’ll just tell you whenever and wherever he feels like the time is right

And apparently to him, the right time was in bed

You were gently stroking his head, his face cuddled into your chest as he smiles giddily from your touch, really just enjoying being next to you and having you to himself

He absolutely adores how your touch makes him feel special and how just being next to you makes him feel safe and wanted

He wiggles up to look you in the eye, with a serious look on his face. He quickly kisses your nose and goes back to digging his face into your neck, mumbling the words ‘I love you’

He wasn’t expecting you to react the way you did, so when you gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead, repeating those 3 words to him joyously, he felt his heart skip a beat and he buries his face deeper into your neck, making sure you can feel his huge loving grin on your skin

[kookingtae]

in character (m)

pornstar!yoongi

→ scenario: Yoongi is one of the best porn stars in the industry; everyone wants to work with him at least once in their career. But what you don’t expect to feel for your co-star is the desire for something more than what’s written on the script.

alternatively: actor au where yoongi plays a burglar who breaks into your house and has his way with you.

→ word count: 5.7k

→ warnings: dom yoongi, rough consensual noncon, breath play, dirty talk, degradation, a lot of slapping, language, face fucking, choking, size kink, cock warming, predator/prey, sadism, unknowing cuckhold, ur tied up, just pure filth tbh

→ a/n: this was previously posted on a side blog of mine, which i’ve since deactivated and reposted here! so if you’ve seen this before, no u havent ♡

“Take it.” Yoongi hovers over your kneeling form, his member held in his hand as he forces it between your closed lips. “Take my fat fucking cock in your mouth like the little slut that you are.”

“Mmm, can’t,” you mumble a muffled reply, turning your head side to side in an attempt to avoid him. You half heartedly tug at the rope restraining your wrists behind your back even though you know they won’t break loose. “It’s t-too big.”

He lets out a dark chuckle. “Come on. Be a good girl and make it fit.” He finally shoves his way into your mouth, his salty precum coating your taste buds as you welcome the warm, velvety soft flesh of his length against your tongue. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt deep within your throat and your face is pressed against his abdomen, the feeling of his happy trail tickling your skin.

“Swallow,” he demands and you do as you’re told. “I want to feel you choking and gagging around my cock.” He tilts his head back with a groan as your throat tightens around his length. “Ah fuck, atta girl.”

You struggle to pull away again before he finally relents this time. A big gulp of air fills your lungs when your mouth is empty, air freely filling your lungs before your windpipes are suddenly constricted again as he wraps his hand around your throat

“Did I say you could stop, bitch?” He hisses before grabbing the base of his shaft and slapping his dick against your cheeks multiple times. The flesh bounces against the supple skin of your lips, leaving a smear of saliva in its wake before his hand then finds your face for a light slap. He backhands the other side for good measure, eyes lighting up in sadistic pleasure when your slack lips give way as a hole for his dick again.

“Cut!”

You’re instantly brought back to reality. Set lights that were once dim now brighten and the sound of idle chatter from stage crew fill the background. Yoongi releases his fist’s firm hold on your hair to step away as if he hadn’t just been abusing your throat mere seconds ago.

“You alright?” He asks softly as he watches you take in a deep breath.

You nod and flash him a weak smile while you try to quell your racing heart. The urge to wipe your tears is overwhelming, though even if your hands were free you couldn’t give in because the mascara streaming down your face would smear. Instead you turn your attention to the director who stopped the scene.

“Yoongi, I’m going to need you to be a little more rough,” the director speaks from his seat behind the camera.

“More rough?” His brows shoot up to his hairline.

“You’re supposed to be a burglar who has broken into this house and taken Y/N hostage—of course more rough.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to you as if silently checking to make sure you‘re okay with this. When you manage to offer him a small smile and nod your head, that seems to be the confirmation he needs.

“Alright,” he replies.

You’re careful not to move so not to cause issues later on when they edit the shot. “Can I get some water?” You call out.

A crew member comes over with a bottle of water, holding the top to your lips and tipping it back so that you’re still able to drink with your hands bound behind your back. The cool liquid is soothing on your strained throat, and when you let out a hum the crew member removes the bottle and ducks back behind the camera.

“How is everything that I’m doing?” Yoongi turns to you once your mouth is free. “Any discomfort? Complaints?”

You gently shake your head. The difference between Yoongi on and off camera is still astounding; this man is a great actor. “Everything’s fine. Please, don’t worry about me. I can take it.”

Yoongi arches his brow, an almost impressed expression adorning his features. “You must be pretty tough then if you can handle all of that.”

You shrug, your eyes finding his with a gleam as you reply, “I like it rough.”

Before he has time to respond, the director is calling for places again. You quickly clear your throat and mentally prepare yourself for the scene ahead while Yoongi gives his dick a few good pumps before an action! fills the room.

It’s fascinating watching him snap back into character; what was once concern in his eyes is now instantly replaced with predatory satisfaction as his hand finds its way back into your hair at the crown of your head, the tip of his still-leaking cock pressing against your slack lips.

“Now fucking take it,” he grits before roughly shoving it into your throat. “Take it like the whore you are.”

A loud gagging noise leaves you at the sudden intrusion, though the sound only seems to urge him forward as his fist tightens its grip to set the pace of your movements while he holds his hips still and roughly tugs your mouth up and down on his length. You let out another lewd noise whenever you feel his tip hit the back of your throat, though you still manage to hug your lips around his shaft with each motion.

“Ah, good girl. You like choking on my cock?” He slaps your hollowed cheek with his free hand and marvels at the way your skin turns red under his touch. “Yeah? Choke on it, slut.” His hand then finds your nose and squeezes so that he’s holding your breath and the only purchase you have is his member fucking your throat.

Your vision ebbs at the edges from the lack of oxygen filling your lungs, tears now fully streaming down your cheeks to purposefully smear the non-waterproof mascara you’re wearing. Your body starts to involuntarily panic as it struggles for air, and it’s only when your knee subtly nudges his ankle three times—the agreed upon number prior to filming which means you’re at your limit—that he finally releases his hold on your nose and lets you fall back with a staggering cough.

Relief floods you as you take in a deep breath of sweet, sweet air. The director hasn’t called cut so he must’ve liked the stunt, which means that Yoongi never leaves character as he watches your display with sadistic pleasure.

“So fucking pathetic. I bet that pretty little mouth of yours has never been fucked like this, hm?” He grips your chin between his fingers and drags his thumb across your bottom lip before forcing it between your lips. “Suck,” he orders.

You have no choice but to obey, wrapping your tongue around the digit and hollowing your cheeks.

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Look at you. You’re so cock hungry that you’re willing to suck off any part of me. Desperate slut.” One of his hands snakes down to your breasts as he grabs the flesh in a tight grip, groping a couple times before giving them a few slaps and admiring the way they bounce beneath his touch. His thumb then finally slips from your mouth only to find its way around your throat and use the hold to pull you up on your knees again. “If you’re so desperate then you’re going to gag on my dick until I blow my load all over that pretty face of yours, yeah?”

You let out a whimper, playing the facade of a scared hostage as you shake your head pleadingly.

A resounding smack fills the air as his hand finds your cheek again in a harder slap this time, and you can feel the wetness pool between your legs as he manhandles you so that your back is flat against the floor and his hands are holding you down.

“That wasn’t a question. Be a good girl and take what I give to you,” he rasps as he angles his hips over your lifted head and begins fucking your face with quick, precise thrusts. Each assault makes another lewd gagging sound leave your mouth as you have no choice but to take the rough onslaught.

He throws his head back in unabashed pleasure as a loud moan leaves his lips, not even looking at you anymore as his hips continue to buck in chase of his high. He’s using you as a sex toy for his pleasure without a second thought, and you can’t deny the way arousal rolls within you at the sight.

After a few more moments of this your sore throat throbs and your wrists begin to ache as the rope digs into your back, and it’s only when your thigh nudges his three times that he seems to come to and pulls himself out of your mouth.

You cough while struggling a bit to sit up. Yoongi seems to notice this and helps you back to your knees before he’s suddenly picking you up entirely and throwing you on the bed as if you weigh nothing.

“Enough of your mouth. I’ve decided I wanna feel that tight fucking cunt around me instead.” His eyes are dark, dangerous as they watch you like a predator stalking its prey, and you find yourself gulping in equal parts fear and excitement.

“W-wait, please–“ you remember the script enough to whimper, though even you know the acting is a lie as your mouth grows dry when Yoongi crawls over you.

“Shut the fuck up!” He hisses before giving your bare pussy a punishing slap. It’s hard to miss the string of liquid arousal that chases his fingers, and he sneers down at you with a condescending tilt of his head. “I knew you were a fucking slut. Look how turned on you are from a stranger tying you up and having their way with you.” He spreads his fingers apart to show you your wetness before he’s reaching forward and shoving his fingers between your lips. “Taste yourself. Taste what I make your body feel.”

The heady flavor of your juices is peculiar on your tongue, though you take what you’re given with big eyes as you stare up at him, your gaze holding for longer than planned as you find yourself unable to look away.

And it’s after a few moments that he suddenly lurches forward and presses his lips to yours in a hard, passionate kiss. You let out a moan of surprise—you hadn’t been expecting that—before your lids are fluttering shut and you’re completely melting beneath him. His tongue is needy as it pushes past your lips to hungrily lap up the taste of both of your arousal mixed together in the caverns of your mouth.

The sensation has you seeing stars, and you let out another groan of pleasure before your back is involuntarily arching to press your chest against his, wanting to feel more of him.

“Cut!”

You hardly even register the director’s voice through the hazy fog of your mind, and it isn’t until Yoongi pulls away that you open your eyes to see the lights and cameras around you. You blink to adjust your eyesight and almost reluctantly turn your head on the mattress beneath you to look at the man in charge.

“There is no kissing in this script.” He holds up his phone to wave the downloaded file that contains this scene’s directions as if to reiterate his point. You were both emailed a copy of the script before you accepted this job. “It’s too intimate. And Y/N, you can’t act like you like what’s happening to you.”

Your cheeks heat up slightly at him calling out your obvious desire that you were trying but failing to contain. “I got it,” you call back half-heartedly. When you face forward again you‘re met with Yoongi’s eyes gazing down at you.

His expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions you can’t comprehend at the moment. “Sorry,” he mouths apologetically since he had been the one to kiss you in the first place.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset, regardless of the director’s criticism.

“Action!” He calls from his seat to start the scene where Yoongi left off removing his fingers from your mouth.

He gives your pussy another slap if only to get back into the rhythm of the scene’s tone, and your body quivers at the sudden sensation.

“No, don’t–“ you try to squirm away from his touch, though the fight only seems to make him angry as he suddenly grabs your body and throws you forward over his lap.

“I told you good girls take what they’re given!” He scolds before a hand slams down over your bare ass, the sting causing you to yelp in surprise. He continues this a few more times, each slap reverberating through the room and leaving a growing red mark on your skin. “Do you like being punished? Wanna be punished by my cock?”

“No–!” You try to shake your head when he’s suddenly shifting you down so that your face is hovering over his erect member.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to good use,” he growls, gripping the base of his shaft and aligning it with your mouth. Because you’re lying on your stomach your head has nowhere to go but down, and he takes full advantage of that situation as he snaps his hips up so that his cock is being forced down your throat with each thrust.

“Such a good fuck doll. Instead of robbing this house I might just steal you and use you as my personal sex toy,” he groans with a toss of his head, his cock unable to leave your mouth due to the position.

You carefully breathe out of your nose for air as you curl your tongue around his length, inexplicably still wanting to pleasure him despite the situation. Each sound of satisfaction that falls from his lips adds to the growing ache of lust in your core, and when your lower half squirms in an attempt to relieve some of the tension this catches Yoongi’s attention.

His hand finds your ass again in a series of quick slaps, each motion cupping the lower cheek and causing your pussy to quiver in anticipation from his fingers being so close to where you want him most. His palm then smoothes over your reddened skin, admiring his blooming artwork before his touch finally settles between your legs.

“Ah, you put up such a fight but your body responds so well.” A curse escapes under his breath when his middle finger slides between your lower lips.

You let out a muffled whine around him, his hips ceasing their movement to instead explore your body so that you’re now warming his stiff cock with your throat.

“You’re such a good cock warmer,” he muses down at you, swiveling his hips for good measure so that his erection swirls inside you.

The action causes you to gag, a sensation that he likes if the involuntary groan is any tell, but the sore pain in your throat is quickly forgotten when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside you.

“Holy shit, you’re tight!” The words leave his lips in pure surprise that cannot be faked.

You wish you could see the genuine reaction on his facial expression, but instead your eyes squeeze shut at the sexual relief that fills your core from finally having some part of him inside you. Oh, how badly you want to beg him to keep fingering you, to cry for his cock and bask in the pleasure he’s giving your body.

But alas, you can’t. You have a part to play.

And so you rock your hips back and forth in what is meant to look like an effort to force his fingers out of you when really you’re just riding them for relief.

Yoongi seems to be in awe above you, and you don’t even have to nudge him three times to make him lift you up off his dick and onto the bed.

You pathetically gasp for breath once there’s nothing obstructing your airways, not realizing how badly you needed oxygen until you’re finally able to breathe properly.

“Enough of this. I’m fucking that tight little cunt right this second.” His tone is dark, determined as he stands on the floor and drags you to the edge of the bed. “On your knees,” he barks coldly.

You resist the urge to desperately obey him, instead fighting back fearfully until he finally manhandles your body into the position he wants you with your ass in the air and your face pressed into the mattress.

“Stop, y-you’re too big!” You start to protest once you feel his tip breaching your walls.

He instantly smacks your ass as punishment. “Sex dolls can’t talk. I’m gonna stretch you so much you rip in half on my dick if that’s what it fucking takes.” And with that he slams into you full force without a second warning.

Despite the scene at hand, Yoongi is a good, smart guy. He has a reputation in the porn industry for being the man every person wants to fuck at some point in their career. His resume is vast and his experience shows in his technique. You’re assuming that’s how he knows you don’t need anymore prepping when it comes to taking his full length and girth; thankfully he doesn’t comment on it out loud, but you’re embarrassingly wet. Like ‘it feels like you’ve already orgasmed twice’ kind of wet. Which is why there’s no hesitation on his part to bury into you to the hilt, and the fake cry of pain that leaves your lips is actually a very grateful cry of sheer, undeniable pleasure.

“Fuck!” He cries out immediately, his hips stalling as they press flush against the heated skin of your ass. “Shit, you’re squeezing around me like crazy. About to milk my cock dry if you don’t stop.”

His voice is breathless, strained; you can tell from your line of work that he’s trying to hold back from finishing too early. Not that you can blame him, what with the way you spent all of foreplay glued to his dick. Still, this being the wildly popular Min Yoongi and all, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within you at his words.

“Cut!” The director suddenly calls, though neither you nor your co-star move. “Yoongi, do you need a minute? We can cut the footage later if you want to wait until you’re ready to start again.”

“U-uh, yeah, just a sec.” It’s interesting how much his voice wavers now that you have a break without the pressure of the camera filming a continuous take.

You glance at him over your shoulder as best as you can with the side of your face in the sheets and your wrists still restrained behind your back. “Anything I can do to help?” You ask.

“N-no, you—don’t move,” he quickly warns as if any motion whatsoever would cause him to blow his load right then and there.

For some reason it causes your heart to flutter with endearment.

So you simply nod your head and settle back down against the bed, the sensation of him essentially warming his erect cock within your walls not helping any as you can feel your slick arousal now dripping down your thighs.

“And... action. Take your time and whenever you’re ready you can start back up again,” the director calls out to him.

Yoongi briefly nods from behind you, and it’s after a few deep breaths from him that you start to feel movement inside the deepest parts of you. He rubs his hips experimentally against your ass to test the waters before finally rolling them in a slow, meticulous motion.

“Shit, I wouldn’t have wasted time on your mouth if I knew you had a pussy like this,” he curses softly as the repeated action starts to gain momentum.

Your skin is slick with precum and sweat where your bodies meet, though you’re unable to stop the moan that tumbles from your lips as his thrusts speed up and the sound of slapping flesh fills the room.

It isn’t long before what was once caution and hesitation transforms back into the rough tone of the script now that he’s not afraid of finishing early. He gives your ass a few loud, stinging slaps before his hand reaches down to grab a fistful of your hair and yank you up. You cry out, your torso now completely lifted in the air due to the strong grip he has on you.

“That’s right, I knew you could take my fat cock. You were just whining like the little bitch you are, huh?” He grits his teeth and slips his hand from your hair to the knotted rope that binds both of your hands together. Your scalp is thankful when he chooses to hold onto that instead while he steadies your body for his relentless pace.

“Ah! No, fuck, it’s too much–“ you barely remember to scream out your lines through the endless waves of pleasure he’s assaulting your body.

“Did I say you could speak?” He growls before dropping your hands so that your chest falls back against the mattress again. There’s only a beat of silence while he grabs your abandoned panties on the bed before he’s unceremoniously shoving them into your mouth. “Now shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna hear you unless you’re crying over my cock.”

And so loud endless sobs tear through your throat, the sound muffled from the soiled fabric in your mouth as he grips your hips so tightly you‘re sure his fingertips will leave bruises and he yanks your body up and down on his length.

“Fuck, gonna keep your messy cunt as my own personal pocket pussy.” Dirty words tumble from his mouth as he loses himself to the pleasure your walls are giving him. “Gonna fuck you every single day.”

You hear the sound of a door closing from somewhere within the house you’re using as a set, and you know that means the scene where your supposed boyfriend comes home is now happening.

“Mmmm!” Your eyes widen as you attempt to speak, in the middle of spitting the panties out when Yoongi suddenly leans forward against your back and shoves them back into your mouth before slamming a hand over your lips to keep them there.

“Oh, is someone home?” There’s a sadistic, devilish glint in his eye as he speaks against your ear, his hips continuing their rutting. “Let them see. Let them see how much of a pathetic whore you are creaming all over my cock.”

The new angle causes him to hit another spot within you that has you crying out in pure ecstasy, tears steadily streaming from the corners of your eyes as your vocal cords vibrate with every muffled groan against his palm.

You hear the sound of your fake boyfriend walking up the stairs, and that’s Yoongi’s cue to pull out and tug you to your feet by the knotted rope at the juncture of your wrists. He roughly shoves you against the closed door with his chest pressed against your back so that you have nowhere to move.

“Mmmm!” You moan frantically again when you feel his cock push back into you, and it’s all you can do to shake his palm from your mouth and spit out the panties between your lips before your boyfriend stops to knock on the door.

You spare a panicked glance back at Yoongi only to see him smirking sardonically at you. “Answer,” his twisted words curl around the tightening coil in your core.

You frantically shake your head. There’s no way you can do that without getting caught!

At your refusal he shoves you against the wall even harder this time, his free hand wrapping around your throat to hold your gaze on him. “I said, answer. Let him hear how I make you feel.” He pivots his hips up in a particularly heavy thrust that had a cry of pleasure falling from your lips—one that catches the ears of your waiting boyfriend.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay in there?” He calls out in concern before turning the handle.

Your eyes widen as Yoongi tugs on your wrists so that you’re stumbling back a couple steps and the door has enough room to open, though you quickly peek your head out so that your fake boyfriend can’t see that you’re naked or that Yoongi is currently ramming his cock into you from behind.

“H-hey babe,” your words stumble as Yoongi starts back up with a relentless pace, one hand holding onto your knotted wrists for leverage so that he can bounce you back and forth on his dick while the other hand smooths down the bare expanse of your back.

Your boyfriend’s eyes instantly widen in concern. “Are you crying? What happened, are you feeling okay?”

When he starts to step inside, you quickly shake your head. “N-no, no don’t worry. I was just uh—I was taking off my makeup. I feel good.” At that moment Yoongi uses his hand on your back to push down on your spine so that you’re leaning forward even more, the new angle causing him to hit a sweet spot deep within your walls. “I feel so good!” You involuntarily cry out.

There’s no way this stunt would ever look believable in real life. But that’s the beauty of porn.

Yoongi suddenly slaps your ass and you stumble, your hand instinctively trying to fly to your mouth to cover your whimper. Though because your wrists are bound, you’re unable to stop the sound of pleasure that hangs wantonly in the air once it falls from your lips.

Alarm springs to your boyfriend’s features. “What was that?”

“I-I just stubbed my toe,” you lamely fumble for the script’s poor excuse.

He nods and you listen to him ramble about his day, mostly stalling for time so the cameras can catch the glory of this unknowing-cuckold moment. You supply distracted hm’s and uh huh’s until he finally says he’s going to the kitchen.

“I’ll be there in a bit, babe,” you call out as he walks away, and the second the door shuts Yoongi shoves you against it again and holds you there with his body, never missing a beat as he continues to slam his hips into you from behind.

“What’s wrong, babe? Don’t want him to know what a little slut you are?” He snarls into your ear, the pet name falling sarcastically from his lips and making your stomach flutter. His skin is slick with sweat where your bodies meet and the heat from your heavy breathing clouds the air between you with lust. “It took everything in me not to open the door and show him whose cock has been stretching this fucking cunt of yours.”

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second tugging you back to the bed now that your interruption has left, though instead of throwing you face down like before, he positions you on your back this time with your ass at the edge of the bed while he towers over you.

There’s something about this position that feels more intimate—maybe it’s because you can stare straight into his eyes this time when he fucks you. But one slap of your tits as he suddenly thrusts his cock back into your heat and you know he’s still in character.

“Ah!” You cry out, the quick intrusion making you see stars.

He doesn’t waste time building his rhythm as he starts back up at the same frightening pace as before, and the hand that’s groping and abusing your breasts slides up your chest and clamps down around your throat, using his hold to yank you up and down on his length again.

“You finally ready to be a good girl? Done whining about taking my fat cock?” He chuckles darkly as you struggle to breathe, fresh tears starting to prick at the edges of your eyes over the black stains streaking down your cheeks.

Just when you’re about to nudge him three times, he releases his grip on your windpipe to instead travel up your jaw and hook his fingers inside your open mouth. His fingers curl behind the back of your bottom-row teeth, holding you there while he fucks into you and uses your holes as a means to get himself off.

“Look at you, so pathetic and submissive beneath me. The perfect sex doll.” His gaze never wavers from your big eyes while he speaks, and before you can register what’s happening he’s suddenly leaning down and spitting into your mouth that he’s forcing open. “Swallow,” he orders.

It’s embarrassing how quickly you obey. Every second that passes is spent reminding yourself that you need to remember your script rather than act on impulse.

But that’s proving harder and harder to do now that Yoongi’s face is so close to yours.

You resist the urge to lean up and kiss him. Your director already scolded you once today; you don’t need him calling you out again. Though you might not have to endure this facade that much longer, because soon your co-star’s hand is snaking down between your legs and finding the bundle of nerves that instantly sets your body aflame.

You have no choice but to take what he’s giving you, and the onslaught of pleasure mixed with the mental image of everything happening is too much for you to handle.

Which is why his growl of “cum,” in the shell of your ear is all it takes for you to lose it on his cock.

“Fuck,” the word falls from his lips with a low, throaty groan. He stands upright again and tosses his head back, both hands returning to your hips as he drags your pussy even faster on his length so you ride out your high while he desperately chases his. “I didn’t think it was even possible for you to feel any tighter—shit, your pretty pussy is gonna make me cum.”

The sounds of pleasure leaving his lips turn short, breathless, until finally you feel the sudden sensation of milky white cum flooding your insides. It’s warm and leaves your body feeling full, satisfied when he eventually pulls out to admire his seed dripping from your cunt.

He bends down to get a view up close, and without the haze of lust clouding your movements you actually feel embarrassed by his thorough inspection despite everything that just happened. If it wasn’t for the dizzying lethargy that’s starting to settle over your body and a need to end the scene, you might’ve tried to squirm away.

“Clench,” he suddenly orders, his thumb dragging up your inner thigh and entering your abused pussy again as he stuffs his seed back inside of you. “Don’t let it drip out. I want you to remember the feeling of my cum filling you up when you talk to your precious boyfriend.”

You shudder at his touch against your sensitive mound, though thankfully he doesn’t linger as the director calls cut! and the scene ends.

The hum of background chatter fills the room again, and it takes you a moment to blink from your daze and realize what’s happening. You can’t move from the bed even if you wanted to.

Yoongi is instantly at your side untying your wrists, his touch careful and gentle compared to the harsh way he was handling your body just moments prior. “Hey, you okay?” He sits down by your side and runs a soothing hand over your hair, your back. “I’m sorry if I went too far a couple times there. They said they wanted me to be more rough, so I–“

“It’s fine, really,” you hum in reassurance when you eventually find your voice. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once your wrists are finally free of the constricting rope, and you rub and roll them a few times to ease the stiff ache in your bones. “I never nudged you because I was uncomfortable. I just needed to breathe,” you chuckle amiably.

A soft smile finds Yoongi’s lips, and he slowly reaches out to give you enough time to pull away if you want to until the pad of his thumb is tenderly swiping the mascara-stained tears from your cheekbones.

The contrast makes you dizzy. It’s like night and day, his actions not even a minute ago compared to his actions now. His sexual range leaves your heart aflutter and you don’t know why.

“Shit, you have marks on your hips.” He runs a hand over the curvature of your side. A shiver shoots down your spine at his feathery touch. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get that into it.”

The tantalizing motion of his fingers seem to put you in a trance before you finally find the strength to sit upright, though the sudden movement makes you wobble a little off balance. He quickly wraps his arms around your back to steady you and then leans back against the bed frame.

You let out an exhale, your stomach rolling at the intimacy of the interaction. You’re now cuddling with Yoongi, and the cameras aren’t rolling anymore. Does he do this with all his co-stars after a shoot?

“You don’t have to apologize,” you murmur, swallowing before admitting your next words. “I got into it too. It was so difficult for me to act like I didn’t want it.”

Yoongi leans back in surprise at your words so he can get a good look at your face, though it‘s in that moment while the two of you are gazing at each other that his manager calls his name. You can’t help but notice the reluctance in his movements as he parts from you, eventually getting up and putting on his robe behind the camera. 

You sigh, giving your legs a bit more time to rest until your manager calls you over as well. What’s happening? You’ve left a shoot satisfied before, but never yearning for more. Was the sex really just that good? Or is it something more, something that has to do with the boy with dark eyes and fluffy black hair staring back at you from across the room?

Whatever it is, you find yourself suddenly a little too excited to see Min Yoongi again.